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sunniskyies · 26 days

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Domestic fluff as you both settle back into life together <3 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Literally just fluff, a bit of being a guardian figure to the kids 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k 𝐀/𝐍: You guys are SO SWEET about the last one, so here's more fluff for you beautiful old man addicts <3

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

The kids are in bed— well, mostly. You can hear the chirp of excited conversation through the ceiling. It was late, Stan and Ford’s explanation taking a long, long time. It didn’t help that the retelling got as thick and awkward as wet cement when it came to talk of Ford’s portal, and the events leading up to his departure.

Exhaustion tugs at every battered bone in your body, but you’re so content you might as well be purring like a kitten in front of a roaring fire.

You're curled up bridal-style across Ford’s lap, his arms enveloping you; warm, cradling, completing. He’s donned an old red knit jumper he fished out of his old chest of drawers. It smells like it belongs in a museum, sort of dusty and woodsy. Your face is pressed to his chest, and you feel much younger than your age. It feels like your first day in this house, the two of you huddled on a sagging mattress giggling and talking of futures and other such nonsense; youthful, hopeful, infatuated.

Now the two of you are more than thirty years on, enfolded together like the pages of a book left on an old yellow reading chair. You don’t speak, saving that long conversation for a lick of sunlight and mugs of coffee cupped in hand. No, right now you just sit in silence, Ford’s large hands stroking dust from your hair, a thumb gently soothing the bruise forming on your temple where you struck the wall.

Still unaware of the time except for the inky night hanging in the air, you feel Ford shift. His arms move, body ready to stand up with you. He stops when he notices two large pupils staring up at him curiously.

“You’re still awake, dear,” he smiles, voice quiet. “Let me take you to bed, I must lock up downstairs, make sure nothing vile is seeping through that blasted portal.”

“Ford, no, let’s go to sleep. You can do that in the morning,” you say, trying to ward off the edge of desperation edging into your tone. You can’t help but remember the miserable months of nights in a cold bed while your lover hid away in the basement, sleeping on his desk rather than with you. It has to be different— he’s better now.

Ford doesn’t share your fretting. “No, it’s not stable. Reopening the portal… it’s not safe to leave these things.” He continues to stand up, your body delicately draped over his arms. He seems to notice your expression. “I’ll join you soon, love.”

You doubt that. He’ll probably be there ‘till morning, his simple task snowballing as his keen eyes notice the slightest things amiss. “No, that won’t happen. No, no, I’ll join you. I’m rather accustomed to the portal myself after all this time with it.” You dismiss, stretching a leg to try and stand on the floor.

Ford bundles you up closer, “Absolutely not! You need rest, I swear I will join you.” He begins carrying you to the hall. Your fingers clutch the red fabric of his sweater.

“Please don’t leave me,” you murmur plaintively, the corners of your mouth downturned. You miss the way Ford’s heart stutters, your eyes all hopelessly syrupy and mournful through your lashes.

He hesitates.

“Please? You can stay down there any other night I promise, just stay this time.”

His jaw tightens. “I don’t want that. Not again,” he says firmly. “Okay… I’ll… I’ll come with you.”

You immediately relax again, at ease in the rhythm of Ford’s steps as he carries you to your room. A stupid grin hijacks your face as he ever-so-gently places you under the sheets (he remembered what side of the bed). You watch from your nest of sheets as he gets ready for bed in the soft lamplight, lifting up the duvet for him to slide in next to you.

His arm around you, frothy sheets up to your neck— you think you might die here and now for how perfect everything feels. You feel his nose bump the top of your head as he presses a kiss to your hair.

“If you’d have told me this morning that… that today would be the day I would’ve never believed…” you say, heavy eyelids closing as you're interrupted by a yawn. You feel his chuckle reverberate where you lean into his chest.

“Go to sleep, sweetness.” He murmurs, tone laced with a smile. There are his hands again, rubbing soft circles on your arm, your hair. He might as well be rubbing in anaesthesia, his touch lulling you to sleep. Darn you Pines.

Before sleep pulls you under, “I’m so glad your back, Stanford,” slips quietly from your lips. Ford’s heart skips again. Arms tighten around you as if you’re a precious photo about to float away on the wind; skin softly creased from a lifetime of loving, hair matte and grey like faded ink from thirty years of waiting.

“I’m more grateful than you could ever know, my dear,”

A stretch trembles through your warm limbs, the aches from last night dulled by a deep slumber and the warm morning sunlight soaking through the window. A thrill passes through you, your arm sliding through the sheets to Stanford’s side and—

A cry pours from you as your hand meets cold, empty space. Your body is jolted upright, perspiration glistening on your forehead. Your heart is hammering, lungs gulping in buckets of air. Where is he? Where is Ford? Did he come through the portal? Did it really happen? You don’t register the wail emanating from you, nor do you register the pound of heavy boots down the hallway.

“____ are you okay?!” Ford exclaims, almost slamming into the door as he hurries in. His hand is tense, hovering above the gun strapped to his belt.

The sight of him— the feeling you get is so overpowering it’s nauseating. Your paralysed limbs untense, body slumping in relief.

“Goddammit Stanford Pines, you just gave me the fright of a lifetime,” you bemoan, uninvited tears swimming beneath the sieve of your hands. You don’t see as his face goes from confused to slack with realisation.

“Oh,” He groans. “Oh sweetness I’m so sorry.” Feeling horrible, he leans on the bed to pull you into him, rubbing your back. “I should’ve waited for you to wake up, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I probably scared you half to death.” You mumble, slightly embarrassed. As much as you are connected to Ford, thirty years has changed both of you, and you find yourself —embarrassingly— feeling like you need to impress him, like a teenager with a crush. God forbid he thinks ill of you!

You relish his rumble of a laugh. “I thought a monster slipped by me or something! I’m grateful you're okay.”

“Yeah, well, I think you might’ve just taken a year off my life, Ford.” You roll your eyes lovingly, a few of the last of those silly tears escaping.

After getting up and pulling on some summer-friendly clothes, you slip down to the kitchen to find the morning well underway. The sun is beating through the windows, and Dipper is sat cross legged on the floor reading a book. He’s reading with the cover down, but his furtiveness is wasted on you; you know he's reading A Good Girl's Guide to Murder. ‘Mature murder mystery books’ indeed, Dipper!

At the kitchen bench, Mabel is haphazardly balanced on a stack of books, multiple propped open at once. From the batter congealing the pages together and the fact that most of the books are iced, you know they are cookery books. And a cookbook in Mabel’s hands is either as dangerous as a matchbook to a forest, or as useless as shoes to a fish.

By the looks of it, it is the latter. Although, is there a faint… burning?

“Great Aunt ___!” Mabel squeals, revealing sprinkle-harbouring braces. “I'm baking, look I’m baking! See, I had this great idea to try and substitute the liquids in my Mabel Cakes with Mabel Juice because Grunkle Ford has never had either —can you believe that? Me neither, so I thought I could kill two birds with one stone and make them together… but I didn’t realise the plastic dinosaurs in the juice would melt in the waffle iron!—” You try to cut off the young girl’s 100-mile-an-hour babble, but that girl is unstoppable.

You wince as she holds up two fists of semi-cooked, eye-wateringly bright gobdules of cakey dough. You, pained, notice the half-melted dinosaurs, faces in liquified agony as strings of molten plastic drip from their bodies. Matchbook in forest, matchbook in forest!

“—So now it’s a bit of a Jurassic Park, another reason why I think Grunkle Ford will love it, even if it’s a bit of a.... disaster. But if you think about it it’s more like a Magical Mabel Disaster! And oh, I added extra sprinkles because you can never have too many sprinkles! Do you think the hardened dinosaurs will make up for the uncooked dough? Or should I cook it more? Doesn’t matter, it’ll taste great!”

You give her a wobbly smile, mostly because you fear what might happen if you open your mouth.

“I tried to stop her,” Dipper mutters from between his pages, voice smug and matter-of-fact.

“Oh don’t act like you're so grown-up, you’re reading a little girl's book,” she retorts in a sing-song. Dipper slams his book closed, the tips of his ears matching the cover.

“I think you’ll find it’s very sophisticated and easy to digest—”

You let the twin’s bickering fade into the background as you begin to tidy up the carnage Mabel’s baking attempt has left. Usually, she gets distracted by things quite quickly, leaving Mabel-messes scattered around for anyone to find. You don’t mind it though, all too glad to slide the Mabel Cake into the bin. You shiver. Those plastic faces… they haunt.

Ford was back down in the basement, the sounds of clanging and buzzing drifting up through the weary floorboards. You want to go down there, but that silly part of you doesn’t want to disturb him again today. No— that’s ridiculous! Ford loves your company, you don’t get in his way —it’s not like it was when Bill was around.

Five minutes later, you're standing in the small room in the basement holding a cup of coffee and a salvaged Mabel Cake. You see Ford through the glass, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tools being used and replaced back onto his belt. He’s hauling colossal slabs of metal from the sides of the portal, the machine slowly being stripped down to bone. Like a massive carcass, it creaks and groans as Ford’s tools slice away at its flesh, and you hope he’s staying well out the way each time pieces of it fall to the floor like toppling trees.

After a few moments, Ford seems to notice you through his welding mask, though you can’t see his face through the tinted visor. He perks up though, dropping a massive saw to the ground and hurrying over.

“Hello, my dear! Is it too noisy?” He says as he slips through the door, pulling off his helmet and drawing you in for a sheepish kiss.

“No, just bringing you some of Mabel’s baking efforts— you don’t have to eat it, but she was awfully excited.” Ford surveys the cake with a smile, and you resist the urge to wipe the smear of soot from his cheek.

“Thank you. For the sustenance, and for, uh, for checking in,” he says sincerely. Is that a flush you see? Your suspicions are confirmed when you set the coffee aside and bring him in for a deeper kiss, blouse-clad arms sliding around his neck, and you feel his pulse thrum beneath his skin.

The relief you feel! You’re not the only one navigating these unknown emotions, that the man who’s mapped the multiverse is also feeling the giddy nerves you are. Your skin prickles where his degloved hands bear your skin.

It feels strange to be held romantically after so long of loneliness. It’s not that you haven’t found love with the kids and Stan, but you could never bring yourself to even look at another in the way you used to look at Ford. Even if you never finished the portal, you would’ve spent the rest of your life alone, satisfied at least in the knowledge of how it felt to be loved, once. It excites you childishly knowing just by his kiss that Ford felt the same, the way he cradles you in his gaze and with his hands as if he’s trying to reabsorb every inch.

When you break away, his eyes open after yours, and he seems to be at a loss for what to say.

“Do you, um, want to go for a walk this evening? You haven’t left the shack yet, and we haven’t truly caught up…” you offer shyly.

“Yes! That would be… splendid! Spectacular. This evening. Perfect.” He blurts. The calm of last evening has clearly floated away in the daylight for both of you.

“Perfect.” You repeat.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14, @2hiigh2cry, @taffycandyqt, @papi-machucha, @muffin1304

#gravity falls #ford x reader #stanford x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #ford pines #stanford pines #gravity falls x reader #fanfic #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls stanford #one shot #ford pines x you #stanford pines x you #fanfiction

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togenabi · 11 months

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the promised knight

knight!roronoa zoro x princess!reader

♡— after a lifetime apart, zoro finds his way back to you

word count♡— 8.7k (screams into the void)

genre♡— royalty au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn bc a lot of things happen, but there's fluff bc I need there to be

content notes♡— fem!reader wears dresses, mentions of death and grief, very plot heavy, kuina and mihawk are here, canon-typical violence, original side characters, no use of y/n, proofread(ish), inaccurate royalty things, inaccurate chemistry/poisons/acids, yes I got the name florentia from ill be the matriarch

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— quick explanation!: a regent has no right to the throne, they're just someone stepping in temporarily while the next monarch is absent or unable to execute their powers. happy reading!!

Your happiest years were when everyone was together.

Those were the days you’d sneak out of your lessons to go play in the training grounds. You’d find your best friends arguing about something or other, fighting with wooden swords and chasing each other around.

Kuina and Zoro did their best to include you in whatever game they were playing. You found it all good fun, even if you were mostly being rescued or hidden away somewhere. The proud smiles on their faces when they saved you always made the wait for them worth it.

“Why do I have to play the bad guy?” A young Zoro whines, frowning deeply with shoulders slumped. His wooden sword hangs lazily in his hand, pointed to the ground.

Opposite him, Kuina’s blade was up, stable and correct with proper posture. “Because we agreed I would save the princess today!”

You remember sending Zoro a small smile, trying to reassure him, “You can save me next time, Zoro. I promise.”

Zoro complained, but gave his all acting as a bandit out to rob you. You and Kuina would run into the meadow—hands held in each other’s—squealing and laughing. You’d always end up collapsed together; among the grass and the flowers. They would cheer and scream into the sky, happy that the great knights protected their princess once again.

But that same meadow is now covered with a blanket of melancholy. The colors aren’t as vibrant as they were back then. Flowers no longer bloom like they did. The children’s laughter has been replaced by a deafening silence.

Everything changed when Kuina died.

She was hit by a stray arrow, they said. They called it a tragic accident.

More sadness only seemed to follow after she was gone. Zoro left without a word, abandoning his training, and you along with it. Your mother, Queen Florentia, passed due to an illness a few months after that. In a blink of an eye, you lost everything back then.

The large doors to your chambers slam shut, breaking you from your train of thought. The thud echoes into every corner before fading into noiselessness once more.

A maid rushes in, completely out of breath and practically stumbling towards you. “Your Highness!” She gasps. Waving a hand, you gesture for her to calm down.

“Selma,” You pour her some water in a glass. It’s strange to see your personal maid so distressed. “What did you find?”

Practically inhaling the water, she places a hand over her heart before explaining, “You were right, Your Ladyship. The commander informed me that several knights had poison hidden in their quarters.”

Her eyes trail to the glass she’s holding, then to the pitcher. Selma’s face becomes appalled as it sinks in that you had poured her a drink. You cut her off before she can make a fuss about it.

“Never mind all that.” There are more pressing matters than decorum right now. “What else did Mihawk say? Have the knights been apprehended?”

“No, my Lady.” Selma retrieves a transparent vial from her pocket. “The commander said there's a chance the poisons were planted. Trustworthy men could have been framed… He discourages you from trusting any of them at all.”

The vial is small, barely larger than your thumb. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing is there. You hold it up to the window, letting the sun’s setting rays shine through the glass.

There it is. A near-invisible, lavender sheen in liquid. The queen regent’s signature poison.

“Damn it all.” You sigh, falling into an armchair.

It’s common knowledge that most of the people are loyal to Queen Regent Cassiopeia. Not to you, the rightful heir to the throne.

Ever since she took the position after your mother’s death, she’s been doing everything in her power to discredit you. Though she's not in the official line of succession, her goal is to become queen by any means necessary.

You’ve only been able to hold on for so long because there are still people loyal to your mother, like Commander Mihawk. However, it will take only one slip up for your standing to collapse. Cassiopeia knows this, and you suspect that she plans to completely ruin you at the upcoming knighting ceremony.

On a paneled wall in your room, encased in an ornate golden frame, hangs a portrait of Queen Florentia. The gold reminds you of the gilded dagger she gave you as a child.

Subconsciously, your hand moves to rest over your pocket; where the dagger is hidden under your skirt. What would your mother have done in this situation?

You scan the painting as if the image would respond. It doesn’t, but your eyes settle on the necklace she’s wearing. It was her most prized possession, and she had promised to give it to you when you were older, but it’s sadly lost to time.

The vial grows heavy in your fist. Your mother would stop at nothing until Cassiopeia is defeated, so that’s what you’ll set out to do.

“Selma, get me some ink and parchment.” You order, feeling more determined. “I have a plan.”

Dracule Mihawk burned the note as soon as he finished reading it. Your idea was brilliant, if only a little complicated to execute.

Cassiopeia will demand you choose a personal knight during the ceremony. Assuming all the knights are loyal to the queen regent, none of them would be a safe choice.

So, you asked Mihawk to hire a skilled fighter to pose as a knight. Someone whose loyalty cannot be bought. Immediately, he knew who to recruit. Though he warned you that you might not find the man… agreeable.

“I don’t care.” You replied stubbornly. “I can’t afford to be picky. Just make sure that he won’t kill me in my sleep.”

Mihawk muses that he might be killed by you in his sleep. Because in a shady, run-down tavern, he sits beside a familiar green-haired swordsman nursing a drink at the bar.

“Fancy seeing you here, commander.” Zoro spits out the title in disgust.

“It seems that some things never change.” Mihawk hums. “You’re still in the same place as you were when we last fought.”

“And your legend ends with you kissing up to that false queen.” Disappointment practically drips from his tone.

“And here you are,” There’s an amused glint in the knight commander’s eye. “...still not able to beat me, Roronoa Zoro.”

Zoro’s jaw clenches in frustration. He breathes out deeply, “What do you want, old man?”

“Join my knights.”

Scoffing, Zoro can’t believe his ears. Is this guy serious? “I’m no knight. Not anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mihawk tests. “The princess needs someone not easily dissuaded.”

At the mention of you, Zoro freezes. He squints at the commander as it dawns on him, “You don’t serve that Cassiopeia bitch.”

“Obviously.”

“But why did you become commander only after Queen Florentia died?” Zoro asks. “Everyone thought you were bought off.”

“That’s besides the point.” Mihawk hisses. “I know you’ve been wanting to make it up to the princess. I’m giving you a chance to do that on a silver platter.”

Zoro stays quiet, eyes watching the alcohol ripple in his glass. He’s not drunk enough for this discussion. And he meant what he said, that he’s not a knight. That dream died with Kuina, and he chose to pursue less honorable ways to become stronger.

It’s funny how Mihawk, who was an outlaw, traded his jacket for a suit of armor. And now, he's trying to act righteous. But some things are just—

“It’s not too late to change things.” Mihawk attempts to persuade him, calmer this time. “Something tells me you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Shaking his head, Zoro can’t believe this man is talking like he knows him. “What do you know about regret?”

When the commander doesn’t respond, Zoro turns to see Mihawk’s face, a grave expression marks his features.

“I know far too much, I’m afraid.”

Zoro studies him for a moment longer, curious as to what he meant—but he doesn’t dare ask. Only an idiot would test Dracule Mihawk.

This master swordsman, whom he’s looked up to for so many years, has changed drastically. Perhaps everyone has. It makes Zoro wonder how much you might’ve changed in the years he’s been gone.

You. He’s—there’s so much he wants to say. So much he wants to ask… but does he have the right to?

Who is he kidding? He doesn’t.

And yet, Zoro can’t help but wonder if he passes on this opportunity and regrets it, would he spend the rest of his life wishing he could make up for it?

After downing his drink, Zoro slams the glass on the bar counter.

“What do I need to do?”

Selma assists you with your hair and makeup on the day of the ceremony. She’s practically buzzing as she flutters around you. It’s nice that she’s still enthusiastic about things like these, even when dangers lurk in the shadows.

“You look stunning, Your Ladyship!” She gushes, adjusting the different layers of your dress so that it falls on you perfectly. “A vision, you are. Just like Queen Florentia.”

“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, despite not feeling as sure and confident as your mother was. Would that change, if you were to become queen?

A knock sounds on your door. Selma rushes to answer it, and lets Mihawk into your chambers. He steps in, but remains by the entryway.

“You look lovely, princess.” The commander bows to you in greeting. “I was instructed to escort you once you’re ready.”

Nodding, you approach him and hold onto his arm. “Let us be on our way.”

Keeping your face carefully neutral, you whisper to Mihawk under your breath, “Will you really not let me know the knight’s name? How am I supposed to know who to appoint?”

“You’ll know.” Mihawk pats your hand reassuringly. “Without a doubt, you’ll know. I just hope you’re not too hard on him.”

You side-eye him. “He’s not a convict or something, is he?”

Mihawk presses his mouth shut. This bastard, is he trying not to laugh? “You might actually prefer a convict over him.”

That pulls a frown out of you that you cannot contain. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Is the man that bad? How are you supposed to mentally prepare with such vague warnings?

All thoughts of the mystery knight fade into the back of your mind, however, when you and Mihawk make your entrance at the throne room.

The extravagant hall is decorated to the nines. Flags of different family crests hang from the ceiling. Flowers bloom at every window sill. You smile at it all, at your people—but it fails to reach your eyes. It’s difficult to truly smile when Cassiopeia stands dangerously close to your mother’s throne.

You curtsy when you reach the steps, one hand still on Mihawk’s arm as the fabric of your skirt dips onto the floor. You hear murmurs of approval from the ministers in the front row, pleased to see the good relationship between the princess and queen regent.

But they don’t see through your gloves, how your grip on your skirt is tense and far too tight. They don’t see how Cassiopeia’s smile is truly a smirk when you lower your head to her.

“Lovely to have you here, darling.” She says, and you fight the urge to laugh. ‘Lovely’ would be if she accepted her place and let go of her greed.

Mihawk guides you to the smaller throne on the left. This has been your seat since you were born. If Cassiopeia had her way, it would be your seat until the end of your days.

She glides to the center of the dais, the train of her excessive dress flows like a river after her. She stands; graceful, powerful and smiling—but she will never be happy until she can sit on the throne and wear your mother’s crown.

Whatever it takes, you will find a way to stop her.

“Welcome to the long-awaited knighting ceremony.” Cassiopeia addresses the audience. “It is an honor to have the kingdom’s finest pledge to serve and protect us.”

The ceremony proceeds to speeches from several dignitaries. Mihawk delivers a short yet intense declamation about the knightage being the greatest honor; and hands the queen regent an elaborate, bejeweled sword.

“These warriors before us today are hereby called forward to receive Knighthood. The kingdom will forever be grateful for your service.” Cassiopeia proclaims.

Attentively observing the knights lined up, you keep an eye out for the one Mihawk recruited for you. One at a time, Cassiopeia announces their name before tapping their shoulders with the ornamental blade.

You grow restless as the line dwindles. Frustrated, you throw questioning looks at the commander’s direction. He skillfully avoids your gaze. The nerve.

When only about five men are left, you begin to study them all and weigh your options. Perhaps you should pick someone with a smaller build, so that you can have a better chance of escaping? You also spotted someone who appeared clumsy. If you were to outsmart him, your odds of surviving weren’t so bleak.

But then—dramatically, as if in slow motion—the great doors to the throne room opened with a loud, booming sound. Everyone turned as light poured into the hall.

A swordsman makes his entrance. His armor is unassuming, but the three blades at his side demand attention. He wears a helmet over his head, but even after so much time, you’d know those eyes anywhere.

Mihawk was right. You would have preferred a convict—or maybe some rogue, or a thief who would rob you blind. You would have preferred anyone over Roronoa Zoro.

You thought you’d never see him again, but he’s here, marching towards the end of the line. You gape at him, feeling too many emotions all at once. Why is he here? Why now?

Mihawk intercepts Cassiopeia before she can question Zoro’s identity. “Forgive me, queen regent. This young man ran late due to an errand I sent him out on.”

How brilliant of him. Cassiopeia hates unexpected interruptions, but would never express her frustrations openly with so many people watching.

It’s amusing to see her grin and bear it. “That’s… quite alright, commander. I’m glad he made it before the end of the ceremony.”

When only Zoro remains to be appointed, you stand and call for the queen regent’s attention.

“Should he accept, this man shall be my personal knight.” You declare as Zoro’s gaze meets yours.

“What of your decision, knight?” Cassiopeia asks. Zoro nods, and the queen regent’s gaze sharpens. She understands that something is amiss, but passes the decorated blade to you without a word.

Back when you were children, you used to dream of this moment together. Kuina and Zoro would kneel before you on the grass beneath a shining sun, pledging their unwavering loyalty as you tap their shoulders with a stick.

You’re no longer children, but as Zoro kneels before you now, you still feel like a child all the same. Your clothes feel too big. The throne room is too vast; the ceiling too high. The sword is too heavy in your hands as you raise it.

“Roronoa Zoro. I hereby dub thee into the honorable order of knights as my chosen protector.” The blade lands on his shoulder—his right first, then the other. You pray to the stars that no one notices your hold quivering.

“Arise, Sir Zoro, and be recognized.”

You’re no longer children, but you’re still here. Playing a different sort of game.

Mihawk, the wise man that he is, makes himself scarce after the ceremony. You’re left to awkwardly journey back to your chambers with Zoro in tow. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head.

Selma is there when you get back, your usual afternoon refreshments prepared. She approaches you, but stops short when she sees Zoro.

“Leave us.” You tell her. She obeys, albeit reluctantly—looking back over her shoulder more than once as she exits.

After the door closes shut, the outside world feels a million miles away; making the air feel tense. You hastily take off your gloves, the fabric suddenly feels constricting against your skin. Every fiber of your being wants to scream at him.

Roronoa Zoro. Your best friend who had left all those years ago. You don’t even know where to start.

Maybe throwing something at him will make you feel better.

You throw one of your gloves. The fabric hits his chest before falling pathetically.

“Seriously?” Zoro frowns at you, unimpressed. You throw the other one. It meets the same fate.

Grumbling under his breath, Zoro takes off his helmet. It vexes you how you subconsciously hold your breath until you see his face.

You huff skeptically, “Why are you here?”

“Mihawk said you needed help.” He answers with a shrug, causing his armor clink.

After a breath, he speaks cautiously, “I didn’t know things had gotten this bad.”

“How could you have known?” You bite back, “You left, Zoro.”

In a sense, you understand why Mihawk chose him. You asked for someone who wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, and Zoro—at least, the one you knew—definitely wouldn’t.

Some (rational) part of your brain is telling you to keep quiet and accept his help. With Cassiopeia planning a mutiny, time is something you don’t have a lot of.

But your heart still feels angry and hurt when you see his—stupidly handsome—face. The years just had to treat him well, didn’t they?

“I’m thankful for your help,” You admit disgruntledly. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Zoro calls your name. It makes your heart ache a bit, but you hold a hand up to silence him.

“Please, just—I need time to process this, Zoro.” Turning away from the knight, your eyes find the window. The sunset paints the meadow in deep oranges and blues. It doesn’t make you feel any better.

“...We’ll talk tomorrow.” You promise, your tiredness evident from your tone.

Zoro lingers, hesitating. But he doesn’t push you. You hear his armor shift as he bows before he leaves.

That night, Zoro stands guard outside your door. It’s good that no one else is around, it allows him to think in peace. About you.

The last time Zoro saw you, you were a small thing, getting dirt on the edge of your skirt. When he saw you today, sullying even the path you walked on felt like a crime.

He knew you would be mad. He had prepared himself to be yelled at. Maybe he thought you would cry. How much you went through didn’t really sink in until he saw how exhausted you were.

All the things he wanted to say, every apology and excuse, fade into nothing. The first thing he wants to tell you is how thankful he is that you’re still alive. It doesn’t matter that you stay mad at him forever, he’ll protect you for just as long.

Footsteps sound through the dim hallway. Zoro rests a hand on his blades, ready to fight back anyone who poses a threat. A knight he’s not acquainted with approaches, his steps staggering just a bit. The man carries a bottle of alcohol.

“Hey! New guy!” The stranger bellows. “This ’ere is a little something we prepared for ya, since yous didn’t eat dinner with us.” Zoro makes a mental note that they’ve been watching him.

“Take it, take it.” The knight tries to shove the bottle into Zoro’s hands. At the last second, Zoro spots a knife the man hides behind his back.

Quick on his feet, Zoro jabs the man’s neck, causing him to stumble. The knight charges at him, but Zoro effortlessly dodges. Grabbing the knight’s shoulder, Zoro slams his head onto the stone wall.

The bottle clatters to the floor as his opponent collapses, looking up at him in fear. Picking up the glass, Zoro sniffs at its contents. It’s laced with some sort of sedative.

Zoro pries the knight’s jaw open before pouring the drugged beverage into his mouth. The amber liquid spills. The man coughs, gurgling and struggling in vain until he slumps onto the ground.

Observing the bottle inquisitively, Zoro shakes his head before dropping it again. What kind of amateurish attempt was this? Is the queen regent testing his skills?

If anything, all this managed to do was—Zoro starts, turning to your door in alarm—…divert his attention.

Not a second later, he kicks down your door. The elaborately carved wood falls from its hinges, dust clouds billow once it crashes on the previously spotless tiles of your room.

You’re fighting off three large strangers clad in black, a dagger in your hand. Zoro tries not to think about how your eyes softened in relief when they landed on him as he cuts down one of the intruders. Maybe you still care for him a little.

“Took you long enough!” Or not.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grunts back, slashing his sword at someone charging towards you. Zoro only realizes the deeper meaning to his words when you make a face.

“Don’t make being late a habit, Zoro!” Stabbing an intruder’s side, you quip at him, “You and your dramatic entrances, I swear.”

Zoro bites back a grin. He missed you more than you’ll ever know.

After taking down one of the intruders, you hide in your wardrobe as Zoro deals with the rest.

It would be smart to lock the door. Barricade it, so that no one can get to you on the off chance Zoro is defeated. But you don’t. You keep the door ajar to watch everything unfold. The way he fights is a captivating sight.

Look at him. Your knight in lackluster armor. Protecting you like how you always talked about as kids. He’s wielding two blades, one for each perpetrator still standing. You blink in surprise when you make out the third, sheathed blade. Kuina’s.

The more you examine him, the more you see how different he seems. He carries himself more confidently, unlike that boy who whined about roles, responsibilities and challenges.

You also see how gruff he’s become. He’s grown stronger, for sure, but you get the sense that he’s closed himself off from the world. Perhaps the years weren’t as kind to him as you'd thought.

The last intruder lets out a pitiful cry as Zoro knocks him unconscious.

“I’ll tie them up and let Mihawk deal with them in the morning.” Zoro says, pausing to breathe for a moment before dragging the men out by their feet.

Emerging from your wardrobe, you become dismayed at the sight of your room in such a state. “Did you really have to kick down the door?” You groan.

Surprisingly, Zoro blanks, appearing sheepish. “...I didn’t know it would break like that. I just—you should get a damn better door.” He mumbles, heaving the doors up and resting them against the wall outside.

When he comes back from restraining the intruders, he stands before you awkwardly—like he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not fighting or cleaning up bodies.

No one says anything. You both just take each other in, not completely recognizing the person that looks back.

You don’t feel so angry at him anymore. When all’s said and done, everyone has different ways of dealing with grief. Your heart only grows conflicted, wishing you had been there for each other instead of being apart. Goodness knows you could have used someone by your side. You’re sure he did as well.

“I—” Zoro falters. “...I’m glad you’re okay.”

‘Okay’ isn’t how you would describe your current state, but you nod anyway.

“You too, Zoro.”

In a secluded alcove in the royal gardens the following afternoon, you invite Mihawk for tea on the pretense of thanking him for your newly sworn knight. The story that spread was that you would have been done for were it not for Zoro. You don’t want to think about how true that might be.

“The queen regent is furious you were able to secure a knight loyal to you.” Mihawk informs you as he helps himself to some pastries. “We should avoid meeting for a while, lest she suspect anything of me.”

“Alright.” You agree. “Selma also informed me that we can gather statements from mistreated staff.” You show Mihawk a list of names. “If enough of them support us, and if we can prove Cassiopeia orchestrated what happened last night… We can take her down.”

“She will be busy attending a gala this evening. I’ll make sure no one is near her office while she’s gone.” Mihawk turns to Zoro, who is standing guard behind you, sending him a fearsome look. “Those men got a tad too close last night—”

“Mihawk.” You warn him to drop it. He doesn’t.

“Ensure that it doesn’t happen again, young man.”

“It won’t.” Zoro replies icily. The commander only huffs in response.

‘It won't happen.’, he said. But trouble finds you when Zoro steps on a tripwire in Cassiopeia's office. Arrows soar, launching from scattered, hidden contraptions. Zoro shoves you into a bookshelf, covering your frame with his.

“So much for her not finding out we were here.” You remark sarcastically, waiting for him to step back.

But then, as they cage your head, Zoro’s arms tense up. His expression contorts in discomfort.

“...Zoro?” Raising your hands, you cradle the sides of his face.

“Damn arrows,” He growls. “I think they’re poisoned.”

“What?!” You gasp, ducking under his arm to check his back. You find a wound where an arrow grazed his skin. “Of course you get injured when you don’t wear your armor.”

“Why don’t you try sneaking around in that thing, then?” Zoro argues, but you’re startled when the wound begins to bleed.

“We need to get you treated.” Panicking, you grab his arm and pull him along. He doesn’t budge. “Zoro, we should go.”

“No.” He refuses, hissing in pain all the while. “That bitch won’t let us find a way in here again. Let’s just be quick.”

“...Fine.” You cave, still worried, hating that he’s right. “At least stay still, search the desk. I’ll handle everything else.”

Zoro relents, opening every drawer and scanning every document in them. You turn your attention to the shelves, trying to find hidden compartments or anything that looks remotely suspicious.

It's not long before a loud crash makes you wince. Zoro found something.

A panel beneath the desk detaches, revealing an ornate box. Studying it, you hum, “It looks like we’ll need a key.” Zoro unsheathes one of his blades, cutting through the lock until it cracks open.

You shake your head. “Or we could do that, sure.”

However, instead of the nefarious plans or blueprints you were hoping for, you find old papers. All of them yellowing with age.

“It’s your handwriting.” Zoro points out, picking up the first document.

“What?” You lean in, reading the file over his shoulder. It’s a letter written to acknowledge a transfer of money. But the amount is astronomical, and you don’t remember signing anything of the sort.

“Look at the date.” Pointing to the corner, it reads more than ten years ago. And then it clicks, “My mother wrote this.”

“There’s more than one.” Zoro sifts through the papers, counting over ten.

“All of them are addressed to… Shimotsuki Koushirou?” He reads the name slowly. You look at each other, confused. Why would Queen Florentia be sending payments to Kuina’s father?

A tall longcase clock chimes to signal the hour. If you clean up now and review the evidence later, you can make it look like you were never here. You instruct Zoro to pack up the box.

“We should head out soon.” You say, moving to pick up the arrows scattered on the floor.

“Be careful.” Zoro reminds you.

“I am.” You show him that you’re holding the arrows by their tail ends. “You can go ahead, if you want. Get that wound treated.”

“Do you really think I would leave you?” You can’t help the incredulous look you send his way.

“...Forget I said anything.”

Back in your chambers, you twirl an arrow you decided to keep as evidence while examining the documents sprawled out on your carpet.

Zoro grabs it from your hand. “I thought I told you to be careful with that.”

You think aloud as he sets the arrow to the side, “I just can’t figure out why my mother gave Koushirou so much money.”

“Maybe she felt bad about the accident.” Your swordsman suggests. “We all did.”

“But why did she have to keep it quiet…” Mumbling in thought, you read the last receipt Queen Florentia signed. It had been penned the week of her death.

The sky grows darker, and it becomes more difficult to see. Zoro strikes a match to light a few candles, bathing the room in a subtle, warm light.

Beneath the dim, flickering flames, the sharp arrow on your tea table glints ominously.

It took you a long while to get over spacing out whenever you saw an arrow. It was one of the things that affected you after Kuina’s passing.

Sometimes, you think of how much better everything would be if she was still here. If it weren’t for that—

…accident?

“Zoro?” Your voice is unsteady, “...What do you remember about Kuina’s death?”

“It was some new guy at the training grounds.” He answers, frowning as he recalls what happened. “He misfired, and his knighthood got revoked after that.”

“But,” Memories come flooding back as you try to piece things together. “If the archers were practicing that day, what was Kuina doing in the grounds?”

“Kuina wasn’t in the grounds.” Zoro corrects you. “She was in that meadow we always went to.”

He points to the view outside, raising a finger to trace the horizon. “The arrow flew through the fence, but it was really dangerous, even—”

Zoro turns back to you with wide eyes. “Even the queen was almost hit! Holy shit, she was there to observe that day.”

You blink at him in disbelief, “My mother was the real target.”

“And she didn’t want the culprit to know she realized, which is why she kept quiet about the money.”

You collapse into a chair as you run your hands over your head. “Did anyone ever check the arrow for poison?”

“No.” Zoro’s face crumples. “She was hit straight in the heart... She wouldn’t have made it even if it wasn’t poisoned.”

“Oh, Kuina…” You choke back a sob, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry it took us this long.”

“Wait.” Zoro calls out your name, taking your hand and kneeling in front of you. The strength of his grip hurts, but you don’t mind it. You need to feel that he’s with you right now; especially when his next question makes your heart fall through the floor.

“How did your mother die?”

“She—she got sick. A lot of our people got sick that year.” You answer shakily, not liking where this is going. “Do you think…”

“Queen Florentia could have been poisoned.” Zoro whispers. “And I bet that fake bitch was responsible for it. For Kuina’s death too.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You counter, “Cassiopeia deals with poisons, sure, but she wasn’t even in the kingdom yet then.”

“...Someone must have betrayed your mother so Cassiopeia could be queen regent.” He suggests, rubbing circles into your palm. “Because isn’t it convenient, how she was there to bring the people together after Her Majesty died?”

It’s confusing how the world seems to have slowed down, and yet your mind is spinning so quickly, you can’t process anything. You squeeze Zoro’s hand to anchor you, but you shatter all the same.

“I hate everything.” You cry, tears streaming down your face. “I hate how I didn’t know—but we were kids! How were we supposed to know? And, I hate feeling so powerless. What—how, are we going to fix this?”

“We’ll find a way, I promise.” Zoro moves to embrace your form, but you glare at him.

“You. I hate you too.” You push him away weakly, but he doesn’t let you go. “I—I hate that you left, Zoro… You have no idea how lost I was.”

His eyes glisten with tears. “I was lost without you too.”

Zoro feels you melt into his arms. Your strength just vanishes, and you slump forward until your forehead touches his.

“...Don’t leave me then.” You whisper. You beg.

He holds your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Never.”

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Zoro pressing the softest kiss to your temple as he tucks you in bed.

Selma barges in the next morning, slamming the (newly repaired) doors open. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you’re starting to feel sad for the abuse your doors have been going through lately.

“Princess! Your Ladyship! Your Highness—” She stops abruptly, covering her mouth, looking scandalized. What is she so flabbergasted by—

Only then do you see Zoro sleeping on the floor beside you. He’s leaning on the bed, using his forearms as a pillow. One of his hands is intertwined tightly with yours.

“Your Highness!” Selma gasps playfully, gesturing to your mother’s portrait. “Right in front of Her Majesty!”

“Selma,” You sit up, letting go of Zoro’s hand. “Did you have anything important to report?”

“Ah!” She exclaims, face becoming worried once more, “The commander has been imprisoned!”

You curse, shaking Zoro’s shoulder to wake him. “Couldn’t you have told me that first?”

“Forgive me, princess. It’s not everyday I see you holding hands with a man. May I ask who confessed first, Your Highness?”

“Oh my god, Selma.” You groan. “Just go prepare my clothes.”

“Shall I dress you, or will Sir Zoro—”

“Selma!”

If Zoro heard any of Selma’s ramblings, he’s excellent at hiding it. You both get ready in record time. After which, he leads the way to the dungeons; careful to make sure you don’t run into anyone.

“We can sneak him out through that secret passage we used to play in.” You whisper, your knight nods.

“When we get to him, break the lock with your dagger. I’ll stand guard in case someone comes over.”

But someone already beat you to Mihawk’s cell. Zoro pulls you into a shadowed corner to hide.

The queen regent paces in front of the bars, her extravagant dress and cape out of place in this gloomy dungeon.

Mihawk is on the ground, his wrists chained with heavy shackles. Yoru is noticeably missing from his back. Seeing him like this is heartbreaking.

“I should have known you’d help that wench.” Cassiopeia sneers. “You’ll regret not siding with me soon enough, Dracule.”

“Now that you’ve found me out, I can finally ask you to stop calling me that.” Mihawk yawns. “My name always sounded revolting in your voice.” Crazy bastard, will it kill him to try to stay alive?

“But Florentia called you that, didn’t she?”

Zoro squints at how something about Mihawk changes at the mention of your mother. It’s almost imperceptible, but the air shifts dangerously. The queen regent should watch her mouth.

“Her name sounds revolting in your voice too.”

Cassiopeia scoffs. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Mihawk leans back, crossing his legs. “That’s not a good habit, Cassie.”

The queen regent kicks the cell. Mihawk doesn't flinch as she snarls, “I’ll deal with the princess and that knight... I’ll make you watch as the light fades from their eyes.” Gathering her skirt, her heels clack loudly as she stomps away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you and Zoro run to the commander.

“Mihawk!” You call out as you stab the lock with your dagger. It crumbles to the ground after a few strikes. “What happened? What did she charge you with?”

“Treason, apparently.” He shrugs, the chains holding him rattling together.

Mihawk goes on as you break his shackles, “This kingdom should be grateful we’re trying at all. We could easily leave them to their own devices—” You frown at him.

“...But of course, we won’t do that.”

Sneaking into the library, you regroup with Selma; who passes on vital information.

“The queen regent has the palace on lockdown. Everyone has orders to take you in.” She tells you. “But I’ve rallied the staff. We're going to plead your case to the ministers, Your Highness.”

“Thank you. Do you have my mother's letters?” She nods. “Good. Use them well. I'll make sure your efforts will not go to waste.” You say, giving her hands a firm squeeze.

“Where’s that fake queen now?” Zoro looks eager for a fight.

“One of the butlers said that the queen regent disappears sometimes, and no one knows where she goes.” Selma explains, passing you a note from her source. “There are rumors that she smells like grass when she returns.”

Mihawk lets out a disbelieving laugh, “She must be at the secret garden.”

“The what?” You ask. That sounds exactly like something you would have loved as a child, but why haven’t you heard of it before?

“It’s a place reserved for queens. Only crowned monarchs should be allowed in there, or even know where it is.” He says. “That woman truly doesn’t know her place.”

“Why do you know about it?” Zoro asks.

After a pause, the older swordsman deflects, “I’ve been called a queen once.”

“Mihawk,” You urge him to be serious. “Can you take us there?”

Before he responds, Mihawk looks at you with something you can’t fully discern, as if he’s recalling an old memory.

“Of course. It’s your birthright, after all.”

The entrance to the secret garden is hidden in a passageway beneath the greenhouse. You imagine your mother walking along this path, to a sanctuary she could truly call her own.

But the vision darkens when you think of how Cassiopeia has been using the space all this time. You hope you're still able to recognize traces of your mother when you get there.

An iron gate stands at the end of the path. Vines tangle through the metal spirals and flowers. Mihawk holds a finger to his lips, carefully opening the gates without a sound except for the rustling of leaves. You all crouch behind a large plant that fans out, over your heads.

And then, you see it. You see what your mother left for you.

The centerpiece of the garden is an intricate pedestal, Yoru is propped up against it. On top of it, however, is a glass case displaying your mother’s most treasured golden necklace.

You almost want to run to it, but Zoro grabs your arm, warning you not to take another step. He nods towards where Cassiopeia stands in front of oddly shaped vials and strange devices containing diff chemicals. She douses a sword with an eerie purple liquid as she speaks.

“Three against one... That hardly seems fair.” She kisses her teeth. Looking over her shoulder, she glares. “Why don’t we fight on even ground?”

Out of nowhere, a large cage falls towards the three of you. Mihawk pushes you and Zoro out of the way, but isn’t able to avoid the cage himself.

“And I just escaped. What a shame.” Mihawk fusses, but you can see that he’s relieved you’re alright.

“Maybe you’re meant to be in a cell, Dracule.” Cassiopeia remarks. “I’ll have your kids join you shortly.”

There’s only one of her, this should be easy, right?

She throws a bottle at you. Luckily, you’re able to dodge it. The bottle shatters, its contents spilling over the bystanding greenery. The liquid turns out to be acid, burning through the foliage and leaving a smoky trail.

Well, fuck.

Zoro also seems to realize how serious this fight is. For the first time since you’ve reunited, he unsheathes Kuina’s sword, placing the hilt in his mouth.

You brandish your dagger as you yell, “Really? You bite it? What would Kuina say?” He sends you a look. You try not to laugh.

And in the next second, you charge at Cassiopeia together.

It’s difficult to get close enough to land a hit. The queen regent leads you in a dance of acids and poisons. You dodge one bottle only to be met with the toxic end of her blade. It seems that your mother’s dagger won’t be enough in this fight.

“I didn't get this far to be stopped by the likes of you!” Shrieking, she lunges at you.

“You will never be queen!” You roar back.

Behind her, your eyes spot Yoru leaning on the pedestal. The blade is large and intimidating, and you’re not entirely sure if you can wield it correctly… But you might not have a choice right now.

As you were distracted, Cassiopeia’s sword almost cuts through your side. Panicking, you stumble backwards. Zoro slashes at your enemy’s wrist. Her hold on the poisoned weapon falters. It plummets with a clang.

While she’s occupied with Zoro, you rush towards Yoru. From behind the bars, Mihawk watches, holding his breath as you wrap both hands around Yoru’s hilt—but the damn thing is too heavy.

“Dear princess, you should have learned from your mother!” Cassiopeia smashes a bottle on Zoro’s head. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!”

The glass explodes into countless glittering shards. A red gas escapes into the air, and your knight inhales far too much of it.

He falls, and for that moment, the entire rest of the world vanishes until all you see is him. Your ears start to ring. His grip loosens on his swords.

No. Please. Not him. Not anyone else. No more.

Mihawk calls your name. You turn to him, on the verge of breaking down. But then, he nods once, slowly. The action reminds you to breathe—filling you with an overwhelming sense of strength. You can do this.

Screaming, you attempt to brandish Yoru again.

You swing the legendary greatsword in a perfect arc. Once it collides with the ground, the air ripples. Power surges through an invisible force headed straight for the queen regent. She tries to run, but the hit lands.

Her eyes don’t stray from yours as she collapses. In her final moments, she falls from grace, howling in agony and rage.

As a last ditch attempt, she throws one last vial of acid at Zoro. You’re about to curse the world all over again as you run to stop it.

Mihawk throws a tiny sword like a dart, miraculously breaking the container before it lands on your knight. Your knees give out, and you pull Zoro into your arms as you gasp for air.

It’s done.

Zoro wakes up to the feeling of you checking his temperature. Your hand is warm against his forehead, making him want to reach up and hold it. He should probably wake up and check on you now.

“Oh.” He hears Mihawk speak, “I didn’t realize your relationship took a certain… turn.”

On second thought, another minute of sleep won’t hurt.

“Not you too, Mihawk.” You groan. “I get enough of that from Selma.”

“Ah, yes. I heard.” The swordsman deadpans, “Hand holding. How scandalous.”

“Alright, if you’re not going to be of any help whatsoever, please just go.”

“If you wanted time alone with him, you could have just said so.”

“Goodbye, Mihawk.”

Zoro hears you escort Mihawk out, and he takes the moment alone to open his eyes. He’s in his quarters, which is a few doors down from yours so that he can easily get to you.

Not that he stays here often, Zoro prefers standing guard outside your chambers. It’s strange how he lasted years without seeing you, because now that you’re back in each other’s lives, he becomes restless whenever you’re not around.

Like right now. What’s taking you so long?

The door opens. Zoro perks up, but deflates when he sees that it’s Selma bringing in a pitcher of water.

“You could’ve at least hidden your disappointment better, Sir Zoro.” She huffs at him, taking full offense. “I’ll go get your princess.”

“Oh!” She yelps excitedly, “My bad, it’s queen anointed now, isn’t it?”

Zoro smiles, his voice raspy with sleep, “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Indeed, it does.” Selma nods, bidding him farewell.

He doesn’t have to wait long to hear your rushing footsteps. The door opens again to reveal you, this time. Your eyes shine in that really pretty way they do when you’re happy. He’s glad that’s among the things that didn’t change.

Zoro opens his arms, inviting you, “Come here.”

Not needing to be told twice, you fall into his arms, burying your face in his chest.

“You’re okay.” You murmur.

“I wasn’t about to miss your coronation, Your Majesty.” Zoro pokes your nose. He did that a lot when you were kids, you forgot how much you liked it.

“Thank you for being okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his cheek softly.

Zoro brushes his fingers through your hair. He holds your face in his hands, tracing your features as if that will help him memorize the happiness he feels in his heart. The sort of happiness he thought was lost to him forever.

“Hey,” Zoro speaks your name with care. “I love you a lot, you know.”

He always envisioned confessing to you in some dramatic, elaborate way that you’d deserve. There could have been a beautiful sunset. He would’ve brought flowers.

But he was wrong. All he needs are the words themselves, and you—smiling the way you’re smiling at him now.

You laugh, “I might love you more, I think.”

Zoro shakes his head, sitting up so that he can bring his face to yours properly. “Doubt it.”

The kiss tastes like magic, like you were always meant to find each other's lips. His heart starts doing something funny, and he has to pull you closer—hold you tighter. You respond eagerly, kissing him back so intoxicatingly that he’ll remember the softness of your lips for as long as he lives.

Later that week, your coronation is a grand and extravagant affair.

When Cassiopeia's misdeeds came to light, the people banded together to celebrate her downfall. Those loyal to her either surrendered or tried to escape. Although none of them were able to get away, since Zoro and Mihawk were ruthless towards those involved in the attempted mutiny.

The crown on your head will take some to get used to. It still feels like you're borrowing something of your mother's; but instead of shying away from it like you had before, you step into it openly. You're ready to become a successor worthy to carry on her legacy of kindness and strength.

Uncharted these waters may be, at least you have Zoro now, who would dive into any perilous sea right after you.

Escaping the celebratory banquet and the revelries, you visit Queen Florentia and Kuina's graves with Zoro. It's only right that you pay respects together.

You leave flowers on your mother's headstone, thanking her for everything she did. You're startled when Zoro takes one of his swords, holding it in front of him as he kneels in front of the previous queen.

“Your Majesty, Queen Florentia,” He speaks, his tone steady and sure. “I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to never leave your daughter’s side. I will protect her until I draw my last breath. I swear to cherish her, and to love her even in my next life.”

What is he doing, making you cry like this? It turns out that emotional boy you knew is still somewhere in there. Your heart feels full, knowing your mother would have appreciated the gesture.

As you're about to move on to Kuina's grave, Zoro motions for you to go ahead without him. You look at him strangely, but do as he says to give him some space.

Mihawk emerges from the treeline when you've gone far enough.

“You look like you’re about to leave without saying goodbye.” Zoro remarks.

“Of course you’d know how that works, hm?” Mihawk challenges, raising a sharp brow. “Try even thinking about leaving and I’ll return to make sure it’s your last thought."

“Didn't you just hear the oath I made to the love of your life?” Zoro turns to Florentia's tombstone again. “Your Majesty, back me up here.”

“She would have approved of you.” Mihawk’s frown is unimpressed, but his gaze is unmistakably caring.

“...Take care of her, Zoro.”

“Of course. I promise.”

As Mihawk walks away, Zoro asks him one last question, “How are your regrets now, old man?”

The former commander’s shoulders shake in a mixture of amusement and relief. “I suspect they'll heal, with time.”

When Zoro catches up to you at Kuina's grave, you're grinning at him. He can picture that same grin on Kuina's face if she were here.

“We were just talking about you.” You jest, “All bad things, too.”

“You had nothing to talk about, then.” Zoro sits on the grass beside you. “I’m perfect for you.”

Appalled, you scoff and turn to Kuina's headstone. “Can you believe this guy?”

That day, you talked for hours, even after the sun had set. And on the trek back to the palace, a soft breeze caressed your skin. It felt like Kuina encouraging you, sending you off onto the next chapter of your lives.

Zoro becomes Captain of the Royal Guard once Mihawk leaves. He's teaching you about weapons and self defense when he picks up your dagger to inspect it, turning it this way and that curiously.

“Is there something wrong with it?” You ask, observing it too.

“This pattern and material.” Zoro says, tracing a certain swirl on the weapon. “I feel like I've seen it before.”

“Ah,” He says in realization, tracing a finger down your neck and making you shiver. “It’s the pattern on your necklace.”

“My mother must have had them made together.” You say, unclasping the chain before handing it to him.

There's a gap in the center of the pendant. Thin and barely noticeable, but it looks like it can be opened by something sharp.

“Do you mind if I,” Zoro gestures at the dagger.

“Just don't break it.” You say. “Treat it like my heart.”

Zoro makes a face that pulls a laugh out of you. “I would never do this to your heart.” Aw. You might have melted a little.

The tip of the blade slots perfectly into the pendant. After twisting it slowly like a key, the metal clicks to reveal: a locket.

Handing it over to you carefully, Zoro lets you open it the rest of the way. Inside, there are images drawn on two panels. You, as a child on one side… and Mihawk on the other. Now you understand why your mother treasured this so much. Tearing up, you sigh.

“You’re not surprised.” Zoro notes.

“...I think a part of me always knew.” You respond. “And, I definitely felt something when I held Yoru. No wonder why.”

Treading carefully, Zoro wraps his arms around your waist as he asks, “You’re not upset that he left?”

“But he didn’t. He’ll always be there for me, and so will you.” You smile up at him. “I’m happy I found my family again.”

Many years ago…

The grass on the meadow bristles gently in the wind. Dusk bathes the land in a dreamy, gold and purple hue.

After a day filled with imaginary adventures, two children wave their dearest friend goodbye. The princess smiles at them fondly before returning to the castle.

Kuina grins, face eager as she points her training sword to the sky. “I’ll be her knight someday. I’ll be commander and everything.”

Zoro jolts, immediately expressing in protest, “No, I’ll be the one to protect her! I’ll be commander!”

“Oh yeah?” The girl’s smile turns knowing. She pokes Zoro’s waist with her sword. “How will you do that? Aren’t you going to marry her?”

Stunned, Zoro can only stare at her in response. A blush creeps up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears. Kuina seizes the opportunity to make a run for it.

“Princess, wait up! Zoro wants to tell you something!”

“Kuina! Get back here!”

read the companion piece / my notes / the timeline of this story (in mihawk's perspective) here : "the taste of ale"

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @ay0nha @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @murnsondock @starszns @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @commanderfreethatdust @onebatch--twobatch @rebeccawinters @gunslxtz @akakaze @lownna

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corroded-hellfire · 22 days

Note

Throwing a fluffy idea out there: Eddie volunteering (possibly for community service after getting busted for something silly) at a pet shelter. The kittens trying to play with his hair, him rough housing with the dogs to help get them some playtime and exercise.

Eddie loves animals and no one can change my mind. All I want is to see him with these fuzzy little babies 🥺

Words: 3.1k

Hopper was a good guy. He knew deep down Eddie was a good kid and that if he was the worst criminal that Hawkins had, things were going all right. But that didn’t mean that the chief of police wouldn’t lay down the law once in a while with the small-time drug dealer.

Eddie had gotten the choice between a few nights in the tiny town jail or volunteering at a pre-approved Hawkins business. Not wanting to spend time behind bars, Eddie grumbled as he took a look at the list of volunteer options. Spending any time at a medical facility was an automatic no and Eddie wasn’t sure how picking up trash would keep him away from drugs when all he’d want is to smoke a joint after the arduous task.

The Hawkins Animal Shelter immediately seemed appealing, though. Growing up, Eddie had always wanted a dog, but his dad couldn’t afford to own one and Wayne is allergic. Thinking of spending time with the dogs and cats that didn’t have families of their own brought a smile to his face. Maybe part of it was that he didn’t have a stable home life before coming to live with his uncle, so he could relate to the sweet, innocent animals.

His first day on the job, Eddie jumps out of his van and tosses his leather jacket on the passenger’s seat so it won’t get covered in fur or drool. The gravel crunches beneath his boots as he heads towards the front door. Barking can be heard before he even grips the dull copper doorknob.

There’s an older woman seated behind a desk as soon as he walks in, who looks up at him over the rim over her tortoiseshell glasses.

“Munson?” Her voice is deep and raspy, the pack of cigarettes sitting in front of her the obvious culprit.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says.

The woman nods her head to a yellow door covered in scratches—mostly on the bottom half. “In there. The girl will show you what to do.”

The girl. Eddie doesn’t even know who she is, but he’s offended on her behalf by being referred to in that way. Giving the woman a quick nod, Eddie heads over and through the door, eager to be out of her presence.

The sound of dogs barking and yipping is even louder in the back hallway, and now it’s joined by the high-pitched meowing of cats. It brings a smile to Eddie’s face as he shoves his hands into his jean pockets. He turns a corner and sees a girl bending over into one of the dog’s kennels. As excited as he is to see the animals he’s going to be spending time with, he admires the view of the nice ass in front of him first. A particularly loud woof from a Pomeranian has the girl standing up straight and Eddie is quick to avert his eyes, hoping he can keep up the facade of being a gentleman for more than five minutes.

“Oh! Hi, Eddie.”

At the sound of his name, Eddie looks back towards you. A smile breaks out on his face as he recognizes you from school. The two of you never really spoke before, but he couldn’t deny that he’d always thought you were very pretty.

“Hey! I didn’t know you worked here,” he says.

“Nope, just volunteer,” you say as you wipe your hands off on the thighs of your jeans.

“And I bet you weren’t even threatened with jail time,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. You giggle and it makes Eddie’s stomach flip in a way that’s unfamiliar to him.

“Let me guess, Brenda sent you back here with a huff?” A dog clamors for your attention in a kennel to your right and you reach in to scratch behind the chocolate lab’s ear.

“I assume so,” Eddie says with a shrug. “She didn’t bother introducing herself before ushering me along, saying you would tell me what to do.”

“Hmm,” you hum, narrowing your eyes as if inspecting him. “Can anyone really tell Eddie Munson what to do?”

This makes him laugh and it scares a skittish poodle to his left.

“Aw, I’m sorry, pal.” Eddie crouches down and holds his knuckles up to the kennel door to let the white, fluffy dog give him a sniff.

“That’s Stella,” you tell him. “Her brother Bruno is on the pillow back there asleep.”

Eddie’s eyes roam over to the dark gray poodle snoozing away in the back corner. He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world and Eddie envies that.

“Do you know all the animals’ names here?” Eddie asks as he stands back up.

“Sometimes it’s hard to keep track because they come and go, but yeah, I think so,” you say. “Hmm, okay, I was just about to go change the kitty litter. Want to come along and distract the kittens? You wouldn’t believe how much they get in the way.”

“Sure,” Eddie agrees as he follows you down the hallway. As soon as you open the door to where the cats are kept, a cacophony of meowing floods his ears. There are different volumes and different pitches blending together to create a song of cat chaos. Eddie realizes he must be staring when he hears a soft giggle coming from your direction. Ducking his head, he clears his throat and turns towards you. “What should I do, boss?”

“Well,” you say as you walk over to a few of the cubbies the cats are residing in, “I’ll let a few out at a time, you distract them with the toys or maybe even some treats and I’ll clean their boxes. Then we try to corral them back in and start over again. Ready?”

There’s an array of cat toys on the far side of the small room. Fuzzy mice, balls that jingle, some with feathers, and a few cat wands. Eddie grabs a bag of cat treats off the shelf–which means every little eyeball in that room is on him–and settles himself on the floor next to the toys.

“Ready.”

The first batch you let out consists of five cats–ones that you know for a fact get along, you inform him. There’s a calico named Turtle, an orange and white one named Eric, an all-white called Kissy with the bluest eyes Eddie’s ever seen, and two small kittens. They’re both tabby cats with stripes, but one is grey with black stripes and the other is a soft orange with darker stripes; named Pepper and Chili respectively. Unsurprisingly, the kittens are the first ones intrigued by their new visitor. Tiny paws pad over the linoleum floor until they’re both standing right in front of Eddie. Now that they’re this close though, they get a bit shy. Their eyes are so big for their little heads, Eddie thinks, and he can’t help but chuckle at how cute they are. Chili decides to be the brave one and takes on the scary task of crawling up Eddie’s leg.

“Jesus,” Eddie winces as sharp little claws dig through the material of his jeans and prick at his skin. You pop your head out from one of the kennels and give him a sympathetic look.

“Yeah. I don’t know why but kittens’ claws are sharper than adult cats,” you tell him.

“God, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” Eddie tells Chili as the little furball stops to sit on Eddie’s thigh. As if seeing that his brother is safe, Pepper jumps up and follows the trail the ginger cat had led. “Ah, both. Great.” His words are joking, but the way he grits his teeth as Pepper’s claws do their little pricks of damage is very real.

Turtle makes her way over and begins to chew on the top corner of the treat bag. Kissy immediately wants Eddie to pet her, and Eric is content to sit about a foot away and watch the others interact with the human on the floor.

You peek over your shoulder as you empty the dirty litter into the garbage can beside you, and smile when you see Pepper standing on Eddie’s lap with her two front paws pressed right over his heart. Her tiny head bobs as she inspects Eddie’s face, little pink nose twitching as it works.

Chili has to outdo his sister and jumps right up to Eddie’s shoulder, as if he were a pirate and Chili is his trusty parrot. The ginger cat noses at Eddie’s curls before deciding to take a taste. He opens his mouth and Eddie is glad that hair doesn’t have nerve endings when Chili sinks those little needles that he calls teeth into the strand.

By the time you get finished cleaning out the litter and refilling the food and water, Pepper is up on Eddie’s other shoulder, chewing on hair on that side of his head. Kissy is curled up in Eddie’s lap, purring contentedly as she snoozes. Turtle is still trying to figure out how to get into the treat bag, and Eric decides he can trust Eddie enough to rest his head on Eddie’s ankle.

“Well, don’t you all look comfy,” you say as you stroll over to them.

“Cats have no boundaries,” Eddie says with a smile.

“Not a one,” you agree.

Eventually, you get them all back in their cubby condos and are able to move on to clean the other cat’s areas.

When you get to the last one, you open the cage door and reach in. Eddie watches as you pull out an older gray and brown cat and hug it to your chest.

“How are you, Perry?” you ask before planting a kiss right between the cat’s ears. You turn towards Eddie so he can get a better view of the large feline. “This is Perry. He’s the oldest cat here and an absolute sweetheart. I would’ve brought him home with me a long time ago if my sister wasn’t allergic.”

“Hi, Perry,” Eddie says, walking closer to the two of you. He holds his fingers up and Perry gives them a quick sniff. The cat ducks his head and Eddie takes the hint, scratching wherever his hand is guided along the soft fur.

“Wow,” you say softly. “I’ve never seen Perry let anyone pet him that quickly. He can be a grumpy old man when he doesn’t know someone.”

“I live with a grumpy old man,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Guess I just know how to deal with them.”

“Do you want to hold him while I clean?” you offer.

“Sure.”

You hand the cat over and Perry quickly adjusts to being in Eddie’s arms. It’s another thing that surprises you. Perry isn’t usually a fan of being held—unless it’s by you. But the tabby seems quite content in Eddie’s arms.

Since the last cage is the easiest to clean, you finish up with the cat room in no time.

“What now?” Eddie asks.

A look down at your watch lets you know.

“Time for the first group of dogs to go outside.” You nod for Eddie to follow you in the direction of the dogs’ section. “We do it in groups since there’s so many of them. This way they can all get some attention and there’s less likely to be any issues or fighting.”

It’s not surprising to you that Eddie is a complete natural with the dogs when you get outside. He’s on the grass with them, rough housing, he plays fetch, and even runs laps around the yard with a few who just need to burn off their extra energy. The dogs all take to him so naturally—even the shy ones. It’s impossible not to smile as you watch the canines play with this golden retriever of a man.

By the time the two of you bring the last round of dogs back inside, Eddie’s cheeks are rosy from exertion, his breathing is somewhat labored, and he has patches of dirt on him almost from head to toe.

“Come here,” you say with a chuckle once you’ve snapped the last lock shut.

There’s a battered door at the other end of the hall, and Eddie follows you over towards it. You jiggle the rusty doorknob and step into the small bathroom. There are a few stacks of towels lined up on the counter and you pull a teal one off the top of a pile.

The scent of lemons fills the small space as you pump some hand soap onto the towel and wring it out with some water.

You turn back to Eddie and motion for him to drop his chin. He does, and you push a few strands of curls back to wipe at the dirt on the left cheek and jawline.

“How’d you get this?” you ask with a chuckle.

“No idea,” he replies with a small huff of laughter. “I think it was when Yogi and I both dove for that tennis ball.”

The memory of Eddie and the chocolate lab both going for the toy brings a smile to your face as you clean off what you can of the dirt.

“He’s a good boy,” you say.

“What about me?” Eddie asks with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You laugh and toss the dirty towel in the laundry bin.

“Yes, Eddie,” you tell him. “You were a good boy, too.”

Even though he’s the one who brought it up, he feels his face get warm.

“So, I’m actually headed out early today,” you say as you wipe your hands off on the sides of your jeans. “But I’m sure Brenda will let you know what you can do next.” It’s hard to keep the playful smirk off your face at the mention of the cantankerous receptionist.

Eddie drops his jaw and stares at you with mock annoyance.

“Playing hooky and leaving me with someone who makes Ms. O’Donnell look like a ray of sunshine? How dare you?”

You chuckle and shake your head.

“I mean, if you want to go get my cavity filled for me, I wouldn’t complain,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie winces, fighting off the urge to run his tongue over his teeth.

“Oof, okay. That’s a good excuse, I guess,” Eddie says.

“I’m so glad you approve,” you tease. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“Sure am.”

Honestly, Eddie has no idea if he’s scheduled to come in tomorrow or not, but he hardly doubts anyone would complain if he showed up for extra volunteering.

“I’ll see you then.”

You give him one last smile before heading to grab your bag from the back room.

The next day, all the cats and kittens meow at you the moment you step foot into their room.

“Hello, babies,” you greet them. “How’s my man Perry doin—” Your face falls when you see Perry’s usual crate empty of the senior cat.

Despite the cries of protest, you back out of the cat room and hastily make your way to Brenda’s desk.

“Where’s Perry?” you ask without preamble.

“Got adopted,” Brenda responds, not looking up from the old issue of People Magazine she’s flipping through.

“Oh.” You swallow and nod your head. “Good for him.” I didn’t get to say goodbye.

A few tears fall as you head back to the cats and begin your daily cleaning routine. You are genuinely happy that Perry has found a home. Cats of his age don’t belong in a shelter, they belong with a family. Well, all cats do, but it’s especially harder for seniors. It’s the fact that you didn’t get to give him one more scratch between his ears or kiss the back of his head one last time that is upsetting you. He was so much a part of your daily life that it already feels empty in the shelter without him.

“Hey.”

Eddie’s voice startles you, causing you to jump and hit the back of your head on the roof of Chili and Pepper’s cubby.

“Ow.” You wince and step back, bringing your hand up to hold the sore spot.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” Eddie says, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to scare you—hey, are you okay?” Eddie frowns in concern when he sees the tear tracks running down your cheeks.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” you say before wiping off your face with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m fine. Just found out that Perry got adopted and I’m bummed I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.”

“Oh.” The smile forming on Eddie’s pretty face doesn’t hold the tone of sympathy that you were expecting. He clears his throat and brings his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well, um, actually, I’m the one who adopted him.”

Either your ears or brain are having a hard time grasping what Eddie just said, so it takes a few moments before it finally clicks.

“You? You adopted Perry?”

“Yeah.” There’s a prideful grin on Eddie’s face and it makes your heart rate pick up. “After you left yesterday, I went to say goodbye to him, and he kept pawing at me through the bars of the crate. I let him out and he wanted me to hold him. I kinda fell in love with him right then and there.”

Tears flood your eyes once more, but this time for an entirely different reason.

“Oh, Eddie.” You chuckle and wipe at your misty eyes. “That makes me so happy. Perry deserves a good family, and I couldn’t have picked a better one. Thank you.”

“You can come by whenever you want to see him,” Eddie says, a nervous warble in his voice. He clears his throat and tries again. “I’m sure, uh, he’d love to see you more.”

A shy smile graces your features as you reply, “I’d like that, too.”

“So, no more tears,” Eddie says, stepping forward and using his thumb to gently erase any remains of your waterworks.

“No more tears,” you agree, taking a deep breath.

Before you can let the thought linger and overthink it, you lean forward and wrap your arms around Eddie’s neck, hugging his body close to yours. He tentatively wraps his arms around your body before holding you just as tightly as you’re holding him.

Reluctantly, you pull away and take a step backward.

“So, what do you say?” you ask. “Should we get to work?”

Eddie drops into a bow and makes a grand sweeping gesture towards the cat cubbies.

“Let’s do it.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #request

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guardarecheluna · 9 months

Text

Wishing you were here tonight is like holding on. (CEO!H)

Words; 11.6K (look at me gooooo!)

Warnings: Fluff city, angst, parent death, smut (oral; fem rec. praise, penetrating sex.)

Summary: Harry has a brand-new employee at Pleasing. An employee that he fell in love with the minute he saw her, that he constantly had to hide his emotions from, because, well, he was the boss.

A/N: My first CEO!Harry one shot!! Eeeek I’m so excited for you to read this one, I’ve worked really hard on it, and I’ve always wanted to write about CEO Harry. I love him already; I hope you do too! If you read, please let me know what your favourite part was or talk to me here. I’m always open for conversations <3 (ALSO! This is my first time writing any smut, so be kind please) Take care and go easy on yourself this week. Elle x

March 2018

Harry is a good boss. Really, he is. He always stands up for his staff members, approving vacation days without much trouble and brought in pastries to the creative meetings.

He would maybe even be described as a happy, joyfull person, kind and engaged in what his staff was creating and how they were doing. And he was, but it was mostly a façade.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t feel joy around his colleagues, or that he was faking it to gain something else – Harry was just miserable in his personal life.

You would think it is impossible to be sad and to feel hopeless when you have a multi-million-pound company at the ripe age of 34, the cars, the women, the parties and all the vacation days he could ever want. But Harry wasn’t that shallow, he never had been. He wanted connection. Craved and yearned for a soulful connection with someone else. A lover, a soulmate to be his own, and not just a one-night stand or a drunken philosophical debate with whoever was available.

Harry sat in his penthouse suite, in the lounge. The penthouse was eerily quiet, apart from a few raindrops smattering against the glass of the windows. The sky looked as dreary and sad as he felt on the inside, his chest tightening and a furrow between his brows as the thought about her. There wasn’t a her yet, but when Harry sat there on his sofa, tie loose around his neck and clammy hands resting on his thighs, he couldn’t help but imagine her there with him.

He wasn’t going to cry though, have a breakdown or feel sorry for himself; it didn’t do him any good, even if it was all he needed right now. He almost called his mom, ready to confess his loneliness, his longing, empty, fragile heart, in hopes that his mothers love could glue at least a few pieces back together.

There was no use, though. He could feel himself falling deeper and deeper into the feeling of loneliness, his head leaning back over the arm of the couch.

A sudden phonecall woke him up from this circle of evil he found himself in. It was Niall, his COO, and best friend, the co-founder of Pleasing. Harry took a deep breath, readying himself for answering Niall’s phone call. It was past 8pm on Wednesday, if anything he wanted to go have a drink at a shitty bar somewhere and drag on about his ex-girlfriend. Harry couldn’t have that tonight.

Harry pressed answer and put on his façade, like he always did when there was possible business to oversee. “Hey, Niall.” Harry said, putting on his calmest, most stable voice. “Heeeeey there H! Sorry to bother you at this hour, I may have done something stupid, but I want you to hear me out before you get pissed, you hear me?” Niall enthused over the phone. Harry sighed, falling back on the sofa with the phone to his ear. This could be anything, it could be that he sold his part of the company to the devil himself or that someone put roses instead of tulips at the entrance of the building. “What did you do, Niall?” Harry let out, already feeling defeated with how his evening was going. His hand over his forehead, bracing himself for what was about to come out of Niall’s mouth. “It could be worse, Styles, I’ve done worse than this. So, you know how we were going over the applications for the new senior creative for cosmetics and design earlier?” Niall led on. “Yes.” Harry replied shortly. “Well, a very interesting application just got through a few hours late and I’ve already called her and set up an interview for tomorrow afternoon. Her resume looks incredible, she’s just leaving her post at Rare beauty and has previously worked as a creative at Milk makeup. She does marketing, press, design and has so many other skills, I just couldn’t put down her application without giving her a chance. If she’s anything like what’s mentioned in her resume she’ll-“Niall rambled on, Harry interrupting him, annoyance filling his head, although Niall didn’t deserve the blow of it. “Niall. We have a full day of interviews tomorrow, and you just booked another one until late. We don’t have time for this, I’m sure someone we’re interviewing can do all those tasks just as well.” Harry just wasn’t feeling it, at all. He didn’t care if Niall had just found the rarest gem in the industry, his workday was over at 5 and not a minute later. With how much brainpower has gone to his depressed mood and anxiety, he couldn’t bear the thought of staying until at least 6:30 on a Thursday. “Harry, I don’t know what to tell you, but I have a feeling about this one. I can stay and do the interview on my own if it bothers you that much. I just want us to give her a chance.” The line got quiet. Niall knew he had messed up not checking with Harry first, but his gut was telling him that this girl might be right for Pleasing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Niall.” Harry plainly said and hung up the phone. Harry threw his phone on the couch, not wanting to even think about how drained he’ll be tomorrow as he went for his evening shower.

The next day dragged on, Harry keeping a big smile on his face for every new applicant that came through the door. There were a few possible hires, definitely, but with the final interview coming up, Harry felt the day wash over him as he waved goodbye to the one applicant they had just finished interviewing.

Their floor was pretty much empty now, just a few staff members hanging around and talking about their day. Harry needed a coffee to be able to finish strong, he didn’t want to leave Niall to do the final interview himself, even if all he wanted right now was to get a takeout and then get straight home. “Do you want anything?” Harry mumbled to Niall as he rose from his seat beside him, making an exit for the door of his office. There was still a few minutes remaining until the last applicant was supposed to be interviewed. Niall didn’t look up as he just said, “No thanks, mate.” And continued reading through the next applicant’s personal letter and information.

Harry walked out into the hall, hearing cheerful laughter down by the offices as he made his way through. His eyes zeroed in on the end of the hallway, the coffee machine calling out his name. “Hi, Sorry, can I just ask you something?” A sweet, nervous sounding voice came from behind him. Harry turned around and was met with what was probably the most stunning woman he had ever laid his eyes on. His breath caught in his throat, cheeks already flushing just by looking at her. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Harry realized he had been quiet for a few seconds to long and kicked himself back into gear. “Of course, what can I help you with?” He got out, flashing his sweet smile at her. He got a chance to study her features, her outfit. Her full lips as she smiled, eyes bright and curious as she looked right at him. He felt like he had won the lottery, just by looking at her, his chest was on fire. She was wearing a fun, colourful outfit that was still business casual, a few cartoonish looking enamel pins on her blazer pocket. Creative she was. “I’m sorry to be a bother, I think the receptionist has already left. I have an interview for the senior creative position here and I’m just lost looking for Horan and Styles offices. Do you know where I can find them?” She smiled at him, a hopeful, kind look in her eyes as she awaited his answer. Harry immediately felt disappointment, if she was looking for work at Pleasing, he couldn’t even think about looking at her the way he was right now. Harry reached his hand out. “I’m the Styles you’re looking for, it’s nice to meet you…” He looked at her with a questioning look, not yet having heard her name. “Oh! This couldn’t be more perfect! It’s Y/N Y/L/N.” She bubbled with joy, reaching for his hand and shaking it. “It’s really good to meet you Y/N, you can call me Harry, everyone here does.” He smiled at her; he really couldn’t help it at this point.

“I was going to get some coffee before our meeting, we still have…13 minutes. Do you want anything?” Harry continued, looking down at his wristwatch to catch the time. Her shoulders slumped in relief, maybe partly relaxing because of his kind demeanour and kind offering. “I-yes, coffee sounds like it’s exactly what I need right now. Thank you, Harry.” She said lightly, with a giggle in her voice. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard such a beautiful sound in all his life, and she had managed to worm her way into his heart and make an impression bigger than the other 5 applicants had made combined. They walked together to the coffee machine, small talking about visions and dreams for the company and why she sent in her resume to work for them. And Harry, Harry was in trouble.

---

Harry was light on his feet as he stepped into the lift at Pleasing HQ this morning, because he was in love. His whole life had transformed in just a matter of months, no longer feeling the lonely, bitter thoughts taking over him at night. He was in his own world of pink rose petals falling from the sky, rosy cheeks and laughter echoing in his head. He felt like he way going crazy, and maybe he was. Y/N had obviously gotten the position as a senior creative. After she left her interview, Harry was just obsessed with her. With what she saw for the company’s future, her laugh and kindness, her witty humour.

Y/N had been working for pleasing now for the last three months, taking it all in stride and charming the whole office with her tactics and energy; Harry had never seen anyone so passionate about their job, so caring about the people around her. She was the perfect puzzle piece.

There was just one issue.

Y/N had no idea about any of this. Or, maybe she could’ve guessed. Niall had to tell him how obviously in love he was with her, and that he had to get his ducks in a line or there would be issues. Dating a co-worker, especially as a boss was frowned upon, however not forbidden.

Harry just couldn’t stop thinking about her, ever. And they were friends, really good friends. Having lunch together, always getting stuck in conversation at their after-work gatherings, and Harry always did an extra round by the offices in the afternoon just to have an excuse to talk to her. Maybe she saw right through him, but he’s not sure he minded it. He was desperate to be a part of her world at this point, just to have a little piece of her, even if he couldn’t have her in the way he so desperately craved. This was going to have to be enough. It was like Harry had accepted his fate of this unrequited love, but he couldn’t really complain as long as she was still in his life. He didn’t feel sad about it anymore, it wasn’t that heartache he had felt previously, he had accepted that he had found his person, but that he was never going to have her. It was alright, he decided.

Y/N was doing a big pitch today, her first one. She had ben scrambling around for the first three months trying to learn everything about the company, the values, the staff and the consumers to really get an idea of what they were wanting to put out. She had worked hard, stayed some late nights to finish a mood-board or sketch a new design for something.

And Y/N was excited. Nervous for sure, but mostly excited to show everyone her interpretation of what Pleasing could become.

Harry spotted her in their conference room as he entered the floor. A smile on his lips immediately after seeing her setting up some snacks for everyone and trying to get the projector to work. He knocked on the slightly open door. “Morning, there! You need help with anything before we kick off?” Harry offered as he leaned against the doorframe. Y/N hastily turned around from the table she was standing on, trying to fix the cord to the projector that was not doing it’s best work today. She jumped down, straightening out her clothes and sighed. “I think most of it is all set, I just can’t seem to pull down the screen for the projector though, and you seem like a tall enough lad.” Y/N jokingly said to him, eyes scrunching and her little crow’s feet by her eyes showing. Harry loved every detail of her. “Course, love.” Harry replied as he walked over to the front of the room and pulled down the screen, easy as pie. “Thank you, H.” She said, now focused on her laptop screen, and fingers picking nervously at her lips. “You’re going to do incredible; I know it. Don’t have to be nervous, it’s just the staff and you know all of them.” Harry said, catching her nervousness as he’d known her for years. “Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m a little nervous, but everyone here is so nice, I have trouble believing I’ll be roasted by any of you.” She answered. He noticed that she never replied to his compliment about her being incredible. Sweet girl, Harry thought, she’s too nice and too sceptical of her own ability, she’s absolutely incredible at what she’s doing. Just as he was about to repeat himself, affirming his trust in her, the other staff started to trickle into the room. Harry hadn’t even put away his coat since he got here, he just went straight to Y/N. “Oh shit, give me a minute, yeah? I’m just going to put away my things, I’ll be right back.” Harry excused himself from the room, but not before hearing, “Hurry up, bossman, you’ve got to minutes to business-time!” Y/N shouted after him, earning a giggle from the people in the room. Harry just smiled to himself as he shook his head in adoration before walking over to his office.

She did so good. Of course she did. She had nothing to be nervous about, and she charmed the whole office with her visions and imagination of future products. She had put fourth an idea about more homegoods, candles, pyjamas and blankets. She had even went so far as to research materials, resellers for those materials and always making sure to stay true to the company’s values according to fair trade and labour rights. Her presentation was also funny, It barely felt like a meeting, she was just so naturally comedic, and Harry absolutely adored her. He sat way in the back, leaning back on his chair and twiddled with his shirtsleeve, looking like a lovesick puppy. Her every move and her every word entrancing him and pulling him deeper and deeper into her trenches. Although, he’d happily go down.

Just as Y/N finished, everyone cheered and clapped for her, everyone was proper impressed by her ideas and research, and couldn’t wait to get started with things. Harry stayed in the back, listening to everyone talk and share their ideas, budgets, raw material ideas and colourswatches. Harry was so proud of her. Everyone slowly left the room, congratulating Y/N on her impressive work, giving her hugs and encouraging words. Harry was the last one there. He was wearing a big, dimply smile as he walked up to her. “You have no idea what you just started, did you hear everyone? You’re fucking amazing, Y/N I don’t even know what to say. I’m so, so impressed.” Harry said, the smile never leaving his lips. If he didn’t know better he’d congratulate her with all the kisses she’d want. Y/N was blushing, her cheeks turning rosy as she looked up at him. “Thank you, Harry. I’m so relieved everyone liked it and that you’ve been here to support me, I really couldn’t have done any of this if you weren’t there so I could ask all those stupid questions.” She replied, humble as always. Harry got stuck in her eyes, just nodding to her. “Celebratory lunch? On me?” Harry followed up with, the blush never leaving her cheeks. “I’d like that.”

---

Another 4 months had passed, and Harry fell just fell deeper and deeper into the sticky sweet lovecloud he was constantly in. It was dreary and dark out, the middle of November as Harry made his way into the office, preparing for their regular staff meeting, when he noticed Y/N was nowhere to be found. A pang of worry beat through his chest. Had she called in sick? Maybe she got in an accident on the way here? Harry felt his heart beating out of his chest in worry for his favourite girl; and just like that his phone went off. It was her.

He’s never answered his phone so quickly in his life. “Hey, there, I was beginning to wonder where you were.” Harry said immediately with a smile teasing on his lips, waiting to hear her voice. The line was quiet on the other end, he could hear her breathing and some rustling of something in the background. “Love? You there? Are you alright?” He said, softening his voice for her, the worry back in his chest as he stepped aside from a few other co workers and into his office, closing the door. “Harry…I’m sorry to call so late in the workday, I-i just don’t know what to do, i-.” He heard her crying over the phone, clearly upset, her breathing irregular and voice shaky. “Shhh, it’s okay love, take a deep breath for me, yeah? Tell me what’s happening, are you alright?” Harry was pacing in his office, wanting to demand her to tell her what was wrong, but he kept his voice gentle for her. He felt his pocket for his car keys in case he had to come get her. He would do anything. “It’s my dad, my dad has- he passed away in the night, and th-they don’t know what happened, I just I ca-can’t come in today so, so I was just…can I-I work from home today, is that o-okay?” Harry’s chest was aching as he listened to her tearful voice. Silly girl, working from home when something like this happened. He couldn’t allow it, and all he could think about was seeing her, wrapping her up in his arms to shield her from the pain she was experiencing. “Listen to me, Y/N, everything is going to be alright. I’m so sorry about your loss, I am so, so sorry. You’re not working today, or tomorrow, you’re going to take the week off and go see your family, do you understand?” He tried to be as gentle and clear as possible so her foggy brain could understand his words. “Do you have someone there with you?” Harry continued, biting his nails in worry for the sweet girl he had fallen so hard for. Harry already knew her answer, her family lived a plane ride away and she was pretty new in London, not yet having made a steady base of friends to look after her. She didn’t protest when he said she wasn’t going to work this week. “No-no. I’ve already booked a flight home, but it isn’t until the weeken-nd.” She stuttered through her tears. “Can I come see you? I just want to make sure you’re alright.” He said immediately, taking any chance he could to care for her. “It’s, it’s okay, Harry. You’re busy, and i-I’m a mess anyways. Thank you for l-letting me out of work tho-though, I’ll make it up to y-you.” She said, but he knew her better than this by now. He knew she’d never ask for help, even if it was from a friend, and just the fact that she called him instead of her closest boss, or Niall for that matter, made his cheeks warm, they were friends first, he decided then.

“Don’t worry a second about work right now, I’m never too busy for you, you know that. I’m going to excuse myself from the meeting and I’ll be at yours in 30 minutes, alright?” He said gently, her heavy breathing on the other side. “It’s going to be okay, doll, I’ve got you.” Harry continued as he grabbed his coat from the hanger and fished his keys out of his pocket, not letting go of his phone for a single second. “Thank you, H.” She just said, as they hung up and Harry was sprinting through the office building to get to the meeting he was supposed to attend minutes ago. He peeked his head through the glass door. “Sorry everyone, Niall can I borrow you for just a second? Important.” Their staff was all very kind and gentle people, Niall excused himself as small talk was rolling around in the meeting area. The staff not wanting to intrude on their conversation. “Y/N’s father has passed away, and she needs a friend right now, she’s all alone and her family lives a plane ride away. I just got a call from her, and she needs someone, will you be handling the meetings for today?” Harry said as he buttoned his coat up, barely looking at Niall, cause all he could think about was her, her, her. Niall put on a knowing smile, but not without feeling his chest tighten for one of his favourite colleagues. “Of course, mate, that’s so shit to hear. Be gentle with her and give her a hug from all of us, yeah?” Niall said, looking for eye contact with Harry. They weren’t a super big company, they were around 20 people and everyone knew each other well, including Y/N. Niall thought he’d tell them she wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week. “I will be, good luck, I’ll phone you tonight.” Harry said, already halfway to the lift as he harshly pressed the buttons in attempt to get a move on, faster. Niall gave harry a smile and nodded. He had to know exactly what Harry was feeling, he was a shit liar and could see right through him.

Harry sped off to Y/N’s apartment, making no stops and pushing the gas a little extra to get to her as fast as he could. He almost ran up the flight of stairs to her apartment, out of breath as he knocked on her door.

And there she was. Still the most beautiful person he’d ever known, despite the tears staining her face, her messy hair and pyjamas still on. It was like another wave of tears hit her the minute she saw Harry, it was like now that he was here, she was going to be okay. “Hey, doll, I’m so sorry.” Harry said as Y/N crashed into his arms, her body heavy and limp from the crying, panic and absolute bottomless darkness she found herself in. Harry had shivers running down his back, just being able to hold her like this, comfort her. His arms wrapped around her, his cheek pressing to the top of her head as he breathed her in and continued whispering affirming words to her. Without letting go of her, Harry stepped them inside her apartment, closing the door behind him with his foot. “Shhh, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, love.” He continued, pulling her head out of his chest and tear stained shirt, his thumbs drying her cheeks and looking her in her eyes. “I know it’s difficult right now, but I’m here to help, alright? C’mon, let’s get you settled, yeah?” He continued. She couldn’t have possibly missed his loving gazes and soft language. She couldn’t have possibly missed how he without any doubt took her into his chest to calm her down. She couldn’t have possibly missed how Harry’s heart was beating out of his chest when he held her so close.

Harry took her into her lounge, witnessing a mess of tissues, her open laptop and a now ice-cold cup of tea on the table. Y/N was still burrowed in Harry’s chest, searching for any kind of comfort she could find. In this moment, she didn’t care that he was her boss, that he had hired her months before to be an addition to his very successful team of workers. She knew it was a strange situation to be in, and to be such good friends with your boss, but with her being so new to the London, sha wanted to grab and hold onto the people she had. And Harry was a very special friend to Y/N, she really liked him as a friend, but it was difficult to not harbour feelings for the man, affectionate, kind and clever as he is. She tried her best to keep things as casual as possible between them, but she was stumbling in the dark right now, looking for whatever lifeline she could grab, and Harry showed up. Of course he did.

Harry settled her down in the lounge, now on a mission to do whatever he could to make her feel at least a little bit better. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, kiss her, stroke her wild hair and paint soft circles on her skin with his fingers but he had to draw a line. He couldn’t use this situation to his advantage, this wasn’t about him and his feelings.

Harry knew her well by know, she couldn’t function in a messy environment, so he took the first step, that was deemed appropriate enough, and started cleaning up and cozying up her lounge area. He removed all the tissues, wiped down her table and made her a new steaming hot cup of tea. He lit a candle, and put on some soft, but not too sad music for her in the background. She protested, of course, not wanting to bother him, it was almost embarrassing that he had to take care of her in this way; but for Harry it was an act of pure love. Of course he would do absolutely everything and anything for her, even if it was picking up her snotty tissues.

As he finished, he settled down on the other side of her sofa where she was laid down. Her crying had settled, she didn’t have a single tear left in her eye. At this point he was just staring at the candle in front of her, trying to focus her energy on something else other than the trainwreck that was her current situation. Harry sighed as he looked over at her. “Thank you for being here, Harry.” Y/N mumbled quietly, not letting her eyes drift away from the flame. “You don’t have to thank me; you know I’d do anything for you.” Harry answered her, his warm hand coming to give her a comforting squeeze around her ankle. She just nodded.

There they sat, Harry’s hand still on her ankle, at loss for action or words. “Is there anything I can do, at all, to help you? I know it’s a stupid question, I know there’s physically nothing I can do to make this any better, but if there is anything, please let me help.” Harry said into the still air of the room. A few more tears welled up in her eyes; he was so kind to her. “C-can I have a hug? I know it’s not proper but I coul-” Y/N said quietly, almost ashamed to be asking such a thing from him, but she really needed him right now. Harry let a puff of air escape his lungs, almost relieved at her words as sat up slightly and opened his arms for her. “C’mere, sweet girl.” Harry let the words slip from his mouth so easily, he couldn’t help but call her those sweet names when she was like this. And Harry often did call her those names, she didn’t seem to mind.

Without another word she turned over on the sofa, crawling her way up into his arms, and letting his scent embrace her and calm her down. His warm chest and comforting strokes to her back. Harry was trying hard to keep his cool with her so close to him, and tried to emit calmness in hopes that she could feel it too. And it wasn’t just a hug, it was more of a cuddle. But in that moment, they both needed it more than anything else.

---

After that day at her apartment, Harry and Y/N had become even closer. Y/N had gone to see her family for the weekend, and Harry had assured her that she could stay longer if she needed to. She was slowly coming out of her hazy mind, thinking more clearly, but she was still barely functioning. Grief is hard. It’s cruel, dark and endless. Y/N’s mind was constantly racing between the final time she saw her dad, their memories, and all the things she had to do that was piling up over the week. Harry was checking in on her constantly, texting, calling, showing up with dinner or helping her with the most simple tasks, that felt huge and impossible in her state of mind.

Y/N was going back to work tomorrow, and although she dreaded the pitying looks and comforting hugs, although she really wanted to get back to her life. Not to forget what had happened with her father, but more to kickstart herself, she knew she didn’t want to lose herself in this grief, so she had to at least try and do something about it.

Harry was taking up a big chunk of her mind as well. As if she wasn’t falling for him before all this, she was now hopelessly lovesick over someone she couldn’t have. She didn’t want it to turn out this way, and she had thought about all possible scenarios for them to maybe, just maybe have a chance together, but was constantly reminded of the one thing that made her heart ache more than anything – he probably didn’t want her. He was just the best human alive, supporting and cheering for his friends, she knew he was like this with all of his friends, he couldn’t possibly not be. She shouldn’t mistake his kindness and generosity for being in love with her.

---

Harry felt like he was going to explode at any given time. They had spent so much time together in the last few weeks, and now that she was coming back to work, full time, he wasn’t sure if he could handle just seeing her without giving her a good cuddle or asking how she’s doing. He knows that as a boss, this is the last thing he should be doing and thinking about, but Harry had never felt like this. It had been months of torture not having her the way he wanted, and he felt completely blinded by the love he felt. Even so far as considering leaving pleasing to Niall just so he could maybe be with her. That was an insane thought though, he was still pretty sure that Y/N didn’t even reciprocate those feelings for him, and he was weighing his options of telling her what he felt or if he was going to take it to his grave. He didn’t want to risk her career, and if they actually got together, he wasn’t sure how the company would take it. HR would hate it, even though it wasn’t forbidden to date a coworker.

This was what his mind was racing on and on about, and he felt like he was going to accidentally expose himself soon if he didn’t say anything.

He had to talk to Niall. He was his best friend, his COO. Harry knew that he was blinded by the love he had inside of him, he needed someone with a clear mind.

“Niall, I need you here for a short meeting, it’s personal though so don’t bring anyone with you.” Harry texted Niall after lunch that day. He wasn’t functioning properly, he felt incapacitated from all of this love that he had nowhere to put, and it was time to come clean to someone, although Niall already knew some of the feelings he was harbouring for Y/N.

Not even 2 minutes later, Niall popped into Harry’s office, closing and locking the door. His office at leas had some frosted glass, so they wouldn’t be totally exposed. “What can I do for you, lad?” Niall said as he sat down across from where Harry was sitting, at his desk. Harry looked deep in thought, his arm leaning on the armrest of his chair, chin supported by his hand. He didn’t even know how to say it, but he could feel a word vomit coming up his throat as the silence grew bigger. “I don’t know what to do, Niall.” Harry said, eyes glazing over as the iceberg finally tipped over, and everything came to the surface. Niall instantly looked worried about his friend, not yet knowing where he was going with all of this. Niall leaned forward in his seat, eyes on Harry as he watched him rub his eyes to rid them from tears coming through.

“I’m so in love with her and I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I can’t do anything without thinking of her, I feel totally incapacitated. But I know that if I tell her this, her career could be at risk. I want to let her know, I need to, but it could go wrong in so many ways. She probably doesn’t even feel the same way I do, and I don’t think I could live with that. I’d rather not tell her and keep her in my life for as long as I can…And I know it sounds dramatic, but I’m desperate at this point, Niall, It’s been seven months and I-“ Harry trailed off as he rubbed his eye once again, refusing to let another tear fall for this girl. He was rambling, almost incoherent at times, but Niall listened to him.

Niall knew, he knew without Harry even mentioning her name. It was obvious that they were both in love with each other. The whole office basically knew, except for Harry and Y/N. And for this, Niall wanted to almost laugh at this immensely dense friend of his, but he kept it to himself, aware that this was probably paining Harry more than he knew.

“Harry, I’m going to tell this to you straight and you need to listen to me.” Niall said, no readable look on his face. Harry readied himself for a proper metaphorical fist to the face. He knew this wasn’t right, he was her boss for chirst’s sake. Niall continued. “I think the whole office knows that you’re both in love with each other except for you two. And I need you to get your house in order because I can’t watch this anymore. You’re going to tell her, and you’re doing it tonight. Y/N just left for her half-day and I suggest you call her up right now and see her tonight.” Harry is just staring blankly at Niall, not completely sure that he heard him right. He just starts nodding. And then the tears come. It was relief in some way, and although he still wasn’t sure about her response if he told her, there was still something there for them to build on. “Niall, I-. What if it all goes wrong, I’m her fucking boss, what do I do if she becomes uncomfortable at her own workplace, she’s a genius, I’m going to have to be the one that leaves.” Harry stuttered. “You’re not going to spend a single second thinking about that just yet, because it might not even happen. In fact, I don’t think it will. You know, she’s talking about you all the time. And she has these disgusting puppy eyes every time you just walk past or even glance at her direction. This needs to end. Call her.” Niall continued, supporting his friend. Niall really did think they were endgame, he could already see it when she had her interview here, all those months ago. Harry nodded. And in a moment of bravery, he got out his phone and pressed her contact information.

Y/N’s heart grew when she saw Harry’s contact on her phone. She didn’t waste a second picking up. “Hey, there bossman, everything alright?” She chirped on the other end of the line. Harry’s heart was beating out of his chest. “Y/N.” He just said, as her blood ran cold. She felt like she was in trouble. Had she forgotten something important? Did she do something to offend him? Y/N was thinking at a million miles per hour, every thought she had ever had about Harry was coursing through her brain at the same time. Harry continued. “I was just wondering if I could come see you later, I have something I need to speak to you about.” Harry said, trying his best not to let his emotions spill into his speech. “Harry? Are you alright? I’m free now, do you want me to come back to the office? I just left.” Y/N said. She could tell this wasn’t the regular hang out or check in like in the past two weeks. “I’m alright, love. And don’t turn around. Can I pick you up at 6 and we could go to mine?” Harry said, looking at Niall who was still sitting across from him, nodding and giving him a thumbs up like a child doing a prank call. Harry’s nicknaming made her slightly calmer, maybe he just had a stressful day. Although, he’d never offered her to come to his, if they were hanging out they were always at hers. “Of course, that sounds good. I’ll be outside by 6, then?” Y/N replied. “Yeah. I’ll see you later, okay?”. Harry said and then hung up the phone.

---

Harry’s hands were shaking on the steering wheel of his range rover. When he had gotten home from his office he stormed around his penthouse, cleaning up any mess that he could detect. He made sure he had something to serve her, and some snacks in case they wanted some. Every thought he had about telling her, he tried to steer away. Instead he cleaned up, took a shower, did some nervous pacing around, and now finally, he was behind the wheel, minutes from Y/N’s apartment. It was all or nothing, now. And he thought about every likely outcome for what was about to happen, he just couldn’t stop stressing out about it.

He didn’t want to mess this up. That thirst, longing, yearning feeling for connection had immediately been quenched the minute he met her. The person he had been waiting for. And maybe, if it didn’t turn out the way he was hoping, all those dreams of a love so deep maybe wasn’t meant for him. And maybe it would be okay if that was the outcome. Harry wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else but her.

Y/N was stood outside her apartment complex as harry drove up. She looked heart-stoppingly beautiful, like she always did. She had been getting a little better sleep and routines for the past few days, which had been nice to see for Harry. He was such a worry wart when it came to her.

Y/N enthusiastically threw the door open to his car, stepping in as if it was nothing.

“Hi, doll.” Harry said sweetly. “Hi, H.” She replied. “So, what’s this mystery topic you can’t talk about over the phone, huh? Top secret business?” Y/N continued, wiggling her eyebrows in suspense. A smile crept on Harry’s face for maybe the first time today. “I’ll tell you when we get to mine, yeah? You might be surprised, who knows?”

Y/N stepped out of the elevator that led directly into Harry’s penthouse. Her chin was on the floor, she didn’t realize he lived somewhere like THIS. She was almost ashamed of the fact that he had ever hung out in her neighbourhood. She was absolutely well paid as a senior creative at Pleasing, but this was a whole other level. “Sit down, cuppa tea?” Harry led her to his lounge, overlooking the city skyline. “Mhm, yes please.” She said, instead going over to the windows rather than sitting down. Harry disappeared for a second and she could hear him put the kettle on. You could see the office from his window, just barely.

Y/N zoned out in some kind of philosophical thought, looking at the skyline, thinking about her current life. But at the forefront of her mind, she was always thinking about Harry. And now she was at his place.

“Cuppa tea, for you, love.” Harry mentioned, putting their two mugs down on a table by the sofas. Y/N stood still, looking at all the lights as she could feel Harry’s presence behind her. She felt his eyes looking at her, and she craned her neck to take a good look at him. Y/N is thinking that he is getting more beautiful by the day. His defined features lit up by the twinkling lights of the city, and his perfectly unperfect chestnut brown curls, framing his face in the most delicious looking way. A pang of adoration fought it’s way into her chest, but she couldn’t let him know.

“Y/N, I really need to tell you something. And before you say anything I really need you to listen to me and let me explain. Can you come sit down?” Y/N was shaken out of her daydream with his serious words. Y/N could just nod, plopping down on the sofa, facing him as he tried to relax against the back of the sofa. Y/N did her best to put on a calm and settled look, smiling at him when she could tell that he was getting nervous. This was going to be way worse than she was expecting, she’s sure now.

“I don’t even know how to say this.” Harry started. It took everything in Y/N’s body to stay still and not question those words from him, he had told her to just listen at first. Her thoughts were racing, as she stared at him, waiting for more words to come out of his mouth. He doubted his voice, trying to get words out and then it was like he was changing his mind. Over and over again. Y/N reached for his hand that was resting on his thigh, fingers lacing together as she gave him a long, hard squeeze. Harry looked to their interlocked hands, carefully stroking her hand with his callous fingers. He gained courage enough to look straight at her. ”I’m in love with you. I have been since the day I first saw you.” The words left Harry’s mouth as he gauged her reaction to them in real time. Harry continued, “And I feel like an asshole, because I know I’m putting you in a tricky situation with me being selfish and telling you this. But I also want you to know that if you want nothing to do with me, or this situation, that’s okay. I-I just had to tell you, because I felt like I was going to drown If I didn’t.” Harry looked right into her eyes. “I was fucking drowning.” He said, almost like he was all out of air, or breathing oxygen for the first time. Y/N couldn’t believe a single word coming from his mouth. This had to be a prank, it couldn’t be. And if it is true, maybe she wouldn’t feel sad ever again. “Harry…” Y/N got out before he stopped her again, grabbing her same hand with his other one. “I’ve been realizing a lot of things lately, and one of them-.” Harry continued. Y/N could see the gears turning in his head, trying to get the right words out, but she couldn’t wait another second for her lips to collide with his. Her eyes glazed over as she realized that he wasn’t going to let her speak. So instead, she took control. “Harry!” She said loudly. Moving from her position on the sofa, towards him and settling herself in his lap. “Shhhh, I don’t want to hear another word about that, just tell me again.” Y/N said as she got closer to his face. Lips calling out to one another. Harry couldn’t breathe. Not with her this close, with her breath on his lips, her thighs hugging his, his hands around her back. It was Harry’s turn to get teary eyed. It just dawned on him what her answer to his speech would be. “Just tell me.” Y/N breathed against his lips. “Please.” She was almost begging to tell her those words again. Just to know if they were true. “I love you, I’m in love with you.” The words left his mouth like they had been sitting on his lips for his whole existence. Y/N let a watery smile overtake her features, and a chuckle left her mouth. “Thank god.” She whispered as she finally pressed her lips against his. His pink, puffy lips danced with hers as their tongues licked into each other’s mouths. It wasn’t like any first kiss; this was a long time coming. It was desperate, passionate and everything they had been craving. Their wet lips then collided in a smattering of pecks, one after the other being placed on their lovers’ lips. Wanting to do absolutely anything except speaking words right now. “I love you, H.” It was Y/N’s turn to speak, in between desperate kisses. Harry was seeing stars as she said those words loud, her nickname for him feeling like it’s burning a hole through his heart.

It was hard for Harry to be vulnerable. He only really was with his family, and Niall. He couldn’t even remember how it felt to have a possible partner to be vulnerable with. Someone he could pour his heart out to, someone who listened, and who vowed to take care of him. Y/N has stepped into his life and cracked open his whole being, it felt like he was on fire from top to toe from all the emotions and tenseness releasing. Y/N let go from his lips as she felt wetness smeared onto her cheeks. Harry was full on crying now. Y/N put her hands around his cheeks, drawing soft patterns on his cheeks with her thumbs, strategically removing the tears from his eyes. “I-I’m so happy, I promise, I ju-st…” Harry breathed, looking at her with wet, wild eyes, his face leaning into her hold. “I know, it’s alright. It’s been a long time coming, yeah?” Y/N chuckled out, in attempt to lift the moods. Harry nodded, smiling to her. His hands moved to her wrists, holding her in place. “I’m going to tell you everything I’ve been feeling these past few months, but the girl I love just told me she loves me too, so I just need to breathe for a second. Take a good look at her.” Harry joked, eyes still focused on Y/N’s face, his gaze bouncing all over her features, drinking her in. Y/N just nodded to him, her love for the man in front of her glowing in her chest. It had been a long, long time since she had felt like this.

This wasn’t at all what Y/N had in mind when he had called her earlier that day. She really had no idea that he was in love with her, she really had no idea that he felt the same way she had, especially in the last few weeks, with them becoming extra close since her father passed away.

Y/N agreed to stay over at Harry’s that night. She didn’t bring a single thing with her to prepare her for an overnight stay, but Harry had convinced her that he had everything that she would need. And she really didn’t want to let him go, not when their night had turned out like this, maybe she would just stay here, always.

They had barely stopped touching since the moment he told her. Always at least one hand on one another; they had a lot of time to make up for.

As they settled in his bed for the night, it was still early, barely 10. They had changed into soft, comfortable clothing, and Y/N got to borrow a set from him. There they laid, Harry was behind her, strong arms wrapped around her frame, fingers lightly touching and playing. Harry breathed in her scent, burrowing his face into her neck and soft, lavender scented hair.

They talked for hours, pouring their hearts out about the past months that they had known each other. But the tears had since long left their eyes, they had each other now, and there was not a single broken heart in sight.

“I still feel like this is all in my head. Like I’m going to wake up from this dream and I’ll be as fucking lonely and sad as I always am.” Harry said into her neck, placing a light kiss after he finished his sentence. “I know. But it isn’t a dream, although my mind is definitely trying to tell me otherwise.” She replied to him. Her eyes focused on the lights from the city dancing on the walls. Suddenly Y/N turned around in his arms, so that they were facing eachother. “Hi.” She said. “Hi, sweet girl:” Harry’s reply came so easily, and he was finally able to say it whenever they wanted to. “I think we need to talk about work, what do we say to HR, do we even say anything? I know it’s all still so new, but I want you to know that I’m all in…if you want that as well.” Y/N continued, a worried look on her face. The thought was bothering Harry as well, but as things had turned out well for them, his positive mindset was telling him that it was going to be alright. And work, HR and people’s opinions was about the last thing he wanted to talk to her about. At least for tonight.

They talked for hours, kissed for hours. In this room, it was just them, Harry and Y/N. They had both been craving this for so long, Y/N had thought of him so much. How it would feel like to be loved by him, what it was like to feel his hands on her body, in her hair, on her cunt. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about it some nights when she was all by herself in her apartment, with her hands between her legs. Heavy breath lingering in the air as his name left her lips in a desperate call for him to do anything to her, anything he wanted. She had felt guilty about it, of course. But now that they were in his bed together, those illicit thoughts were starting to creep back into her head. Now that he was touching all over her, she wanted more.

Her lips reached for his neck, leaving wet kisses and small bites around his soft spot, as Harry’s breathing got a little heavier. “Love, what are you up to, hm?” He said in the gentlest voice, knowing where this was going as her kisses had suddenly changed from pure and loving, to slightly more sexual. “Tell me what you need, pet. I’ll give you anything, do you know that?” Harry continued, as he brought his lips to hers. Y/N almost mewled out a reply, mind fuzzy from his scent and sweet talking. “I need you, everywhere. Please. Just do anything, I’m yours.” Her eyes closing as Harry placed kisses all over her face, nose, cheeks and corners of her mouth. “You’re mine now, huh? I love to hear those words from you, you have no idea. But I need you to tell me what to do pet, what do you want?” He tried again, wanting to make sure that she knew what she was asking for, and wasn’t just caught up in her hazy mind. “I need you to touch me, k-kiss me, I just want you, H.” Y/N said desperately, in an almost whisper. Harry chuckled at the sweet girl in front of him. Of course he was going to take care of her. “Alright, love I’ve got you, yeah? But I need you to tell me if there’s something you need or if you want me to stop, do you understand?” Harry spoke clearly to her now, looking into her eyes to make sure that his message got through. “Yes. Yes, H, I want you.” She got out, her hands now underneath his t-shirt, nails scraping against his stomach. Harry’s hands touched her all over, keeping her close to his body, his hands travelled south and dipped into the waistband of her borrowed sweatpants. He stroked her soft skin over the thighs, bum and finally stopped on the outside of her underwear. Their mouths connected, and Harry was trying to stay focused on her pleasure, on the ques and clues she was leaving him with her touches and the way she moved. “Please, H” She moaned out, so zeroed in o finally getting a little taste of him on her tongue. “Shhh, pet, you’ll get all of me, don’t worry.” He tried to reassure her as his hand grazed over her underwear, laying soft and gentle strokes over her underwear, right on her clit. He moved devilishly slow, and Y/N was aching for more, higher pleasure from him. A moan slipped from Y/N’s lips and it was like all of the blood in Harry’s body rushed to his cock, almost making him lightheaded. Harry’s fingers that were moving on the outside of her underwear was now moving said underwear out of the way, being able to fully feel how wet she had become just from a few touches. Y/N had started to tug on his t-shirt. “Off, I want it off” she said to him in the dimly lit room, wanting to see all of him. Harry chuckled at the silly, sweet girl in his bed and removed himself from her, pulling his shirt over his head aswell as removing his sweats, just in his underwear mow. His next mission was to get Y/N out of her kit. He tugged on her t-shirt. “Is this alright? Wanna see you.” Harry whispered in her ear as his large hands were already underneath the t-shirt she was wearing, massaging her soft sides. Without a word from her, she sat up, and pulled it all off, discarding the t-shirt and her bra on the floor. “You’re so fucking beautiful, love.” Harry said, without tearing his gaze away from her breasts. His mouth instantly coming towards her belly and kissing up towards her boobs, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples, fingers tugging and rolling the other one. A moan ripping out of Harry’s chest the second he got a taste of her. “Shit, H, that feels…” Y/N moaned out, fingers running through Harry’s hair, slightly tugging on it. Harry continued kissing her chest, any skin he could to touch or kiss, he was there. Desperate to taste every inch of skin that she’d offer him.

Harry’s mouth started to travel down Y/N’s belly, teasing at the waistband with his green eyes looking into her’s for permission to remove them. Y/N slightly lifted her hips to make it easier for him, and her underwear and sweats were on the floor in barely a second, his body falling in between her legs, as he continued to kiss anywhere he could get to. “Are you going to let me have a taste, pet? Yeah?” He said to her, eyes still looking into hers. Another “please” fell from her lips, eager to get him on her. “Hmm, so kind to me, yeah? I’ll show you my worth, I promise you.” Harry said with a gentle tone, leaving her even more needy and ready for him to do something; anything. His lips finally met with her wet cunt, licking broad, strong swipes over her entrance and clit. Harry moaned at the taste of her, his eyes falling shut; he’d been dreaming about tasting her like this, but this was way better than anything he could’ve imagined. Y/N was writhing in her place on the mattress, her hips chasing after his tongue and heavy moans escaping her throat as he continued to kiss, lick and poke at her with his tongue. “You’re so goo-d, Harry, fuck! You’re mine, please,” Her moans encouraged him and simultaneously made his cock even harder, if that was even possible. Harry’s arms came up, one arm over her hips to slightly still her, and one over her breast, teasing her nipple. “I’m yours, don’t worry pet.” He replied to her, letting go of her messy, wet cunt for just a second before diving back in. Y/N’s hand flew to his hair, searching for anything to hold on to in her intense amount of pleasure. “Please, I’m going to come, you’re gonna make me com-e, please” Y/N was moaning out, almost screaming at this point, to deep into her pleasure to realise how loud she as being. Harry didn’t mind it at all. The hand that was previously on her breast moved down to her cunt, a finger playing at her entrance before pushing two of them inside her, slightly curving his fingers as he could feel her clenching around them. Y/N could almost black out at this point. She could barely remember the last time someone else had made her come this hard, it wasn’t usually happening at all with her previous partners. Her breathing started to get heavier as she came closer to her climax. “Come for me, pet, let me taste what I’ve worked so hard for. Look at me.” Harry let out, having to rut his hips into the mattress to get some kind of relief, he felt like he could come just by looking at her in this immense state of pleasure. With her eyes locked to his, she came, orgasm ripping through her body, legs trembling as Harry worked her through her orgasm with his mouth and fingers. When she slowly started to come down, Harry’s touches became lighter and more gentle, not wanting to overwhelm her after such an intense orgasm. As Harry’s lips let go of her, he moved to crash down on top of her, kissing her puffy, swollen lips. He had already missed her mouth. “I think I’m going to have to keep you forever, if that’s how you’re going to make me come.” Y/N admitted with a smile, her flushed face close to his and lips lingering on each other. “Darling, you know I wouldn’t mind, I’m here for as long as you want me.” He said back. Now it was her hands that started to travel down to his boxers, slipping inside of his boxers and gently stroking over his cock. “Shit, doll, I’m not going to last if you put your hands and me and I’m planning on at least two more orgasms for you.” Harry shakily breathed against her lips. “Mmmh” Was Y/N’s only reply, instead ridding him of his underwear and mumbling. “Are you clean, please tell me you’re clean I just want to feel you. I have a Nexplanon.” She almost begged him, it felt like too much to just get out of bed in search of a condom. “I got tested after my last partner, I’m clean as well, do you trust me? I could go get a condom, it’s no trouble, pet.” He replied in between kisses.

“No condom, I want to feel all of you. Please?” Her wide eyes looked into his for any kind of regret about it. She trusted him, he had already proven himself to be loyal and trustworthy, and she couldn’t find a single reason not to believe him although Y/N religiously always wore a condom with new partners. “Of course, pet, give you everything, you can trust me. Always so good for me, yeah?” He said, loving her reaction to the words that came out of her mouth. He turned them around, so that he was on his back, with her on top. “I want you on top to start with, okay? You can go as fast or as slow as you’d like, pet, it’s up to you.” Her heart trembled as he encouraged her to feel good with his body, completely trusting her and wanting to go at her pace. Although, her face fell slightly as her confidence wore thin when she had been on top with previous partners. Harry could read her immediately. “Shhh, no frown on that beautiful face, just to start and then I’ll take over when you’re ready, yeah?” He said, sitting up so their naked, upper bodies were flush against each other. “C’mon, doll, take what you want.” He encouraged her as she lined him up and slowly sank down onto him. She was slightly worried about taking him, he was above average in comparison to others and she wasn’t a fan of the pain that it could bring. But as sank down and took all of him, and she had never felt such a spark of pure pleasure as he filled her up. “Fuck me, pet, you feel so good around me, never had anyone feel this good on my cock.” Harry praised her, as she started to slowly grind her hips for some friction. Harry held her close, arms clasped around her upper body for support, as he attached his lips to hers. They moaned into each others mouth as Harry’s encouragement made her more brave and she moved more freely, her hips desperate for more, more of him. She had never felt this good during sex. Y/N’s thighs were burning from the work out she was getting, her belly on fire from him, so deep inside of her. “You feel good, baby? You’re taking my cock so well, look at you.” Harry praised her. She could barely think straight, not even being able to form a single word as more moans escaped from her lips and spilled into his mouth. His lips went to her neck, leaving lovebites, kissing, sucking, not for a second thinking of any marks he was leaving, deciding that he liked it like that. “Harry…” Y/N let out a tired whimper of his name, feeling so close to another orgasm already, but her legs felt like jelly, and she was frustrated that she couldn’t keep up her pace to chase after her climax. “I’ve got you.” Harry replied, giving her a big smile as his hands came up to her sweaty face to get some hairs away from her eyes. He just wanted to see her properly. “Going to let me take care of you? Make you come, again?” Harry continued, a proud, cocky, smile on his lips. Y/N just about had time to nod as he pushed her onto her back onto the mattress, getting up after her and getting on top of her. “This is my favourite…” Harry said into her neck, proceeding to put both of her legs over his shoulder, Harry leaning over her. As he pushed himself back into her, Y/N could swear she was seeing stars, the angle made up for her almost lost orgasm as after just a few strong thrusts, she was barrelling towards her orgasm again. Her hand attempted to slip in between them, to rub her puffy clit, she could taste her orgasm, it was just right there. Harry had realised quickly pulling up her arm and replacing her hand with his. “You’re going to come for me, again, pet? Spoiling me, aren’t you?” Harry laughed, pressing and pinching her clit, as Y/N’s lips attached to his neck. His scent was grounding her as another orgasm rolled through her body, causing her to grip on to Harry hard, pressing herself against him as if he would vanish at any given moment. Y/N’s nails pressed into his biceps, his shoulder blades, earning a grunt from Harry. Every nerve ending in her body was exploding, wanting more him, needing him like water or air.

Harry’s pace didn’t falter, he worked her through her orgasm and continued. The pleasure was so overwhelming, but she didn’t want to stop, she wanted more. “Darling, look what you’re doing to me. Promised you another one though, didn’t i? I’m so close, pet, be gentle with me, alright? Harry stuttered softly to her, kissing her lips as he released her legs from his shoulders, pulling out of her. Wordlessly, he turned her to her side, placing a pillow under her head as he got in behind her and pulled Y/N’s leg up for him to enter her again. Y/N was lost for words, she was in some hazy dream state driven by her lust for him, and not thinking a single thought besides him. “There we go,” Harry whispered to her, his arm encasing her shoulders as his other hand find it’s way back to her clit, in hopes of luring her into another orgasm. Y/N sighed as he picked up his pace again, her head falling back on his shoulder as she let him manipulate her to wherever he wanted. She was almost pissed at this point; she had gone her whole life without having sex that was this could? She had no idea that this is what it could’ve been. And she’s also pissed at herself for missing out on so much time with him, when he had been in love with her this whole time.

“Pet, you’re going to make me come any moment, where do you want it?” Harry’s voice was strained, trying to keep his composure as he neared his end. Y/N could barely get her words out, already feeling her next orgasm growing from those words he said to her. “Inside, come inside me.” She manged to say into the air as she turned her head slightly to catch his lips.

Harry let out an otherworldly moan from that sentence. “So good to me, Y/N, i’m going to come, are you with me?” He grunted out, his thrusts quickening as did his hand on her clit. Y/N was sure she was going to black out by the time they were done, as she felt her orgasm triggered by Harry’s cock steadily poking her g-spot. Y/N just about screamed, hands clawing at Harry’s arms, writhing around in the bed, wanting to get closer to him and get away from him at the same time. She could feel Harry’s cock twitching inside of her and his cum filling her as his pace faltered, giving deep, hard thrusts into her. They were both moaning out, breathing laboured, as they had just ran a marathon. Y/N was now shivering in her post orgasmic state, Harry’s cock still inside of her as he had caught up to reality, placing soft kisses on her neck, jaw, and cheek.

“Did so good for me, you feel okay, pet? I’m honestly kind of pissed that we didn’t get to do this earlier, best I’ve ever had.” Harry mumbled, nose grazing her cheek. Y/N smiled, slowly coming back to reality; their minds had to be connected somehow. Y/N turned around in bed, now facing him on their sides as she clung on to him. Sweaty bodies embracing each other, heartrates still way too high to be healthy. “Mm-hmm.” Was all she could reply to him, as she closed her eyes, taking in his scent, a mixture of sweat, his cologne and pure man, peppery, citrusy. “I don’t even think I could form a proper sentence; you’ve absolutely wrecked me.” Y/N manged to get out, a teasing smile on her lips as their eyes made contact. “Yeah, I was kind of hoping I’d ruin everyone else for you, you’re mine now, huh?” Harry winked at her, an almost comedic tone to his voice, although Y/N could see the hopeful glint in his eyes as he had repeated those words back to her. He can’t fool her that easily. “I am yours. If you’ll be mine.” She said to him, watching a glowing smile spread over his face, a puff of air escaping his lungs, full of all the love he had for her. “I’m all yours, and I have been for a long time.”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #ceo harry styles #ceo!harry #ceorry #harry styles smut

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ronearoundblindly · 5 months

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best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #750+#steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x female reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #hurt/comfort

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reystenius-01 · 5 months

Text

Sweet and Sour

Summary: Alexia comes home from that game to a sick reader. Comfort and fluff ensues.

(okay theres a bit of angst as well, i couldn't help myself, im sorry 😭)

----------------

Alexia didn’t know whether to cry, to yell, or to hurl a water bottle against the nearest surface. They had lost. Barça had lost. Their first defeat of the season could not have come at a more dangerous time, in the first leg of the Champions League Semi-Final.

It was their first home defeat in five years, as well.

And to add salt to the wound, you weren’t around. You weren’t at the game today. You were at home, incredibly ill to the point where looking at a screen hurt your brain. You weren’t there for Alexia to cling onto, to reassure her that everything would come up blaugrana at the end of the day.

At least, though, you were at home, getting better for the second leg. You’d save them, Alexia told herself, as she applauded the fans for coming and attending. The fans deserved better than whatever the hell that performance was out there.

God, it kept replaying in her head. That miss. That fucking miss.

She could’ve levelled it, put her team on some somewhat stable ground for the away leg at Stamford Bridge. A part of her shattered when that ball went wide, it took majority of her willpower to get right back up afterwards.

The little head-slaps she usually gave Vicky were lighter now, only just. As much as Alexia would love to give Jona a piece of her mind (she’d do that tomorrow at the latest), you were waiting for her at home.

The mere thought nearly brought her to her knees.

Though she knew that you would understand, that you would be the usual radiating beam of positivity that you always were despite feeling like you got hit by a truck, a part of her feared that you’d be disappointed, not just of the team, but of her.

Alexia was brought out of her thoughts as Jona walked into the locker room. The usual post-match speeches were given, but a chunk of Alexia’s brain was just all mush after that game. It was mostly a blur, and she could hardly remember what she had said in her own speech. Thankfully, she didn’t need to do media. The last thing she needed right now, especially in her current headspace, was for some reporters trying to bait her into making a scathing comment.

She wanted to go home to you. And at the same time, she didn’t.

The team bus was mostly silent on the way back to the training ground, a few of the girls conversing in hushed tones, some faint music coming from the back of the bus. Alexia hadn’t texted you yet. You needed the sleep, so you could get better and get back to the team.

Salma’s head was on her shoulder, the girl having fallen asleep a few minutes into the bus ride. Alexia’s heart went out to the girl, and she had encouraged her to keep her head up.

The minutes went by like a blur, and before Alexia knew it, they were back at the training ground. The radio played faintly in her car as she drove back to your shared home, making a quick stop at the pharmacy to pick up your antibiotics, since the pharmacist had called her to let her know that your required dose for tonight was ready.

The first thing Alexia noticed when she got home was the smell of soup. You must’ve made some boxed instant soup or something, her thoughts confirmed when she saw the box and the seasoning packets. There was still some soup left in the pot on the stove. Well, there was dinner sorted.

She set the bag from the pharmacy down on the kitchen counter before heading upstairs to check on you. She quietly entered the bedroom, and saw you curled up in bed, your breathing steady and peaceful. She smiled softly, grateful to see you resting. You could be a little stubborn at times.

Carefully, she approached the bed and sat down beside you, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, also gently holding her hand against your forehead to check on your fever. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad anymore.

“Hey, amor,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “I’m home.”

You stirred slightly, blinking sleepily as you looked up at her. “Hey, pretty girl,” you murmured, clearing your throat and sitting up a bit so you could lean against the headboard. “How are you? How was the game?”

Alexia hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. She didn't want to disappoint you with the loss, especially when you were just starting to feel better.

“It was... challenging,” she said finally, hating how small she sounded. “But you know how it is. Win some, lose some.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering in your eyes. You knew your girlfriend the same way you knew how to breathe. There was no way she’d ever use the words ‘win some, lose some’ to describe a game, especially a Champions League semi-final, at home no less.

You studied her for a moment, your eyes searching her face. “Lex, what's wrong?” you asked gently, sensing her reluctance to talk about it.

Alexia hesitated, her heart heavy with the weight of her missed chance, chewing a little on the inside of her cheek. “I... I had a chance to level the score,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I missed.”

Your heart broke then and there, not because of the loss at all. Your girlfriend, the Alexia Putellas and the two-time Ballon D’or winner looked so… small in front of you. Your expression softened with understanding, and you reached out to take her hand in yours. “Hey, it's okay,” you said soothingly, your voice filled with reassurance. “That’s football, love.”

Alexia noticed you shift closer to her a bit, your thumb stroking the back of her hand gently. You were keeping your distance a bit, not wanting to get your girlfriend sick, even more so now.

“But it was such an important game,” Alexia said, her voice trembling with emotion. “And I let everyone down.”

You shook your head, gently squeezing her hand. “You didn't let anyone down, Lex. You gave it your all out there, and that's all anyone can ask for. We win and lose as a team,” Alexia wasn’t looking at you, but you were looking at her, studying her. You could see her biting her bottom lip to keep herself from crying in front of you. “Mi vida, mírame.”

Alexia nibbled on her lip some more, before shaking her head. Your hand left hers, reaching up to gently hold her chin and encourage her to look at you. “Ale, mi niña bonita. Please look at me.”

She let you turn her face to face yours, and your thumb immediately reaching up to wipe away the tears that were escaping the corners of those gorgeous hazel eyes.

Your heart ached for her. She looked so vulnerable in that moment, and it pained you to see her so torn up over the match. “Alexia, listen to me,” you said, your voice firm but gentle as you wiped away her tears, albeit a little croaky as well. “You are so much more than just one missed chance. You are strong, talented, and resilient. And no matter what happens on the field, I am always going to be proud of you.”

Alexia's breath caught in her throat as she looked into your eyes, seeing nothing but love and admiration reflected back at her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Don't apologise, amor,” you said softly, shaking your head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Alexia shook her head, a shaky sigh escaping her lips. “I just... I hate feeling like I disappointed the team, the fans… and you.”

You reached out, cupping her cheek gently in your hand. “You didn't let anyone down, Ale,” you insisted, completely sure of what you were saying. “You're an incredible player and an amazing captain. And I couldn't be prouder of you–”

You doubled over, turning your head away to cough into your arm, your other hand patting your chest.

“Amor,” Alexia all but jumped to your side, hand rubbing your back despite you trying to keep her at a distance so that she didn’t get sick.

“I’m…” Another stream of coughs escaped you, and Alexia pulled away briefly to pour you a glass of water. “I’m fine, Ale, thank you.”

You accepted the glass, taking a few sips to soothe the irritation you felt in your throat, massaging it gently. “Maybe you should take some medicine,” she suggested, worry evident for your health.

“After this,” you set the glass on the bedside table, grabbing Alexia’s hands again and getting her to sit beside you. “It's okay to feel disappointed, Lex, but don't let one moment define you. You are capable of so much more than you realise, and I know you know that.”

Tears continued to stream down Alexia's cheeks, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes as she listened to your words. “I just want to make you proud,” she admitted, her voice slightly above a whisper, sounding more like herself now.

“Oh, bebita,” you murmured, your voice soft just like your smile as you bunched up your sleeve, wiping at Alexia’s cheeks. “You already make me proud every single day.”

Alexia sniffled, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Even when I miss crucial chances in important games?”

“Even then,” you replied without hesitation, your gaze locked with hers. “Because you give your all out there, and you never give up. You always fight, and fight to make up for it.”

“You always know just what to say,” she whispered, a soft sigh escaping her as she looked at you.

“What can I say? I’m just so wise,” you replied, pulling a face, making Alexia chuckle and lightly shove your shoulder. “Hey, no bullying the weak and feeble!”

“You aren’t f-fuh–?” Alexia tried to copy your pronunciation, and with each attempt, your smile grew. “Amor!”

“What?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Just…” Alexia put her hands on your shoulders. “You’re not weak.”

“I know, mi amor, I know. You aren’t either,” you put one of your hands on top of one of hers, gently caressing her knuckles. “We’re still in it. We’ve been here before, no?” You looked at her knowingly, yet so softly and so full of love.

“Mhm,” she hummed, her smile getting bigger.

“We just need a bit of faith and trust. No matter what happens, win or lose, you’re one of the most amazing people in my life,” you reached out to run your hand through Alexia’s hair, still a bit damp from her post-match shower. “Want me to brush your hair?”

“I want you… to take your medicine,” Alexia said with a smile, and you groaned.

“Is it the tablets?”

Alexia pursed her lips as she stood up, stifling a smile as she held out her hands for you to help yourself up out of bed.

“Amor,” you whined, kicking your feet a little like a child being denied ice cream from a street vendor.

“Come on, my tough and pretty and sexy girl,” Alexia wiggled her fingers. “You can handle a few pills, lovely.”

“I told you that a few months ago, and you banished me to an air mattress on the floor because you didn’t want me catching whatever bug you had,” You held onto her hands, standing up. Alexia’s large hands patted your waist a little before holding you gently. It was an adorable habit of hers. “And then, you proceeded to beg for me to come to bed with you just because you couldn’t stand being apart from me for the night.”

“Come, come,” Alexia had a smile on her face as you went on your little rant, leading you down the stairs to your inevitable fate of having to ingest some pills. You hated the feeling of pills in your throat, even when you took them with water. “Don’t be stubborn.”

“Alexia, don’t be mean to me, I am ill,” you stopped at the bottom step, Alexia looking up at you slightly, tilting her head and smiling at the sight of you pouting.

You grumbled when she wrapped her arms around your waist and picked you up into her arms, begrudgingly wrapping your legs around her waist to hold onto her as she carried you into the kitchen, “Be careful, you played a rough half of football.”

Alexia glanced at you, brow furrowed. You weren’t supposed to be on your phone or any technology for that matter.

“Mapi called,” you smiled innocently, fingers scratching her scalp, the midfielder closing her eyes at the feeling briefly. “It’s been a while since she used short sentences.” Alexia winced. “Too soon, yep, sorry.”

“The doctor said you need to have three tablets–” Alexia braced herself for the mush of words that were about to come out of your mouth.

“Amor!”

-----

#woso community #barca femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso one shot #alexia x reader

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aziraphale-is-a-cat · 2 years

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Daniel J Nightingale is the absolute bane of John Constantine's existence, and yet here he sat, in the watchtower, talking to zattana, and eating John's fucking sandwich.

"I'm sorry, why is the fucking youtuber here, and why is he eating my food?" He asked, feeling pretty pissed.

Zattana sighed, "I know he has a less than credible internet presence, but he does have information about the Lazarus pits." She looked over her shoulder back at Nightingale, who was staring back at her with false innocence. "And I have no idea where he got that sandwich."

"Sorry man, I was pretty hungry."

"Oh mate, I'm sure you were!"

Zattana put her hand on his shoulder, giving what probably looked like a reassuring squeeze, but actually felt like a fucking vice on his trapezius. "We are trying to have a conversation about the pits, John."

"What in the everloving fuck is some trendy, backrooms influencer going to know about dimensional runoff??!"

"Hey," said Daniel, putting down the now half finished sandwich, "Do you actually think what people call 'the backrooms' are actually part of this dimension?"

"The fuck does that mean?"

"Okay," He said, putting his hands flat on the table and looking like he was getting ready to go on a rant. "So in the 90's to early 2000's a couple of scientists were able to discover a new energy source that existed in very faint portions all over the world, but mostly in graveyards and like, battlefields where people died. This energy would connect with the emotions of the recently dead and form extradimensional beings right here on earth-prime."

And the realization dawned on John, "No." He said, but Daniel nodded. "Not the Fentons, there's no way those nutcases were right?"

He nodded uncomfortably, "Well, they were psycho but they were right. Found a thinspot between dimensions over in Illinois and punched a hole right through, forming our fist stable portal to the Infinite Realms. AKA the dimension where both 'the backrooms' and your little Lazarus Pits originate."

Daniel picked the sandwich back up and let that new information sink in for a bit, picking up a stray piece of lettuce off the table.

Constantine felt like slamming his head into the nearest wall. The insane occult scientists had been right the whole time and now some fucking youtube hack was their best lead to taking down what was basically a magic crime ring.

Amazing.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #john constantine #justice league dark #zatanna #zatana #backrooms au

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nopanamaman · 3 months

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What’s up with the City?

Loredump. September 2023

What do we really know about the City the characters inhabit? Aside from it being located right next to the Zone, not much. And to be fair, the song series format doesn’t leave a lot of room for exploration.

But it’s an interesting place in its own right. Today we’ll learn a little bit about its history, life, and how being right next to the strangest area of the planet has affected the lives of its 400,000 inhabitants. Let’s dive right in.

View of the City’s edge in winter. Unexciting.

Where is the City located?

The City has no concrete location: it can be placed on almost any territory within Russia, Belarus, or Ukraine. Despite a lot of the realia and places within it being drawn from my own lifetime in Minsk, it’s not meant to represent it specifically.

The City is part of a larger totalitarian state. Housing hundreds of thousands of citizens, it used to be the largest settlement in the vicinity of ЦКР-5 (TsKR-5), a closed town declassified after its own destruction and the emergence of the Zone.

Closed city TsKR-5. In reality, the military town Knyaze-Volkonskoye

Who lives in the City?

The City is mostly inhabited by people of various slavic nationalities. The main spoken language is Russian, though there are folks who know and communicate in other slavic languages. The government treats those who do so with suspicion, so it’s not common practice.

Smoke above the City. In reality, Nekrasovka, Moscow

The majority of people living on the periphery of the town are employed in factories. A significant industrial centre before the Zone’s emergence, it remains a stable producer of vehicles, electronics, and environmental waste.

However, the proximity to the Zone and the massive research centre have attracted a lot of scientific talent and entrepreneurs to the place. The latter usually choose banditism or smuggling as their business model. Unsurprisingly, the crime rate is high.

Most of the population, adult and child alike, has had some contact with gangs. It’s not uncommon for kids to actively want to go into banditism, as it’s seen as one of the few avenues for achieving some sort of financial stability.

How is the City affected by anomalies?

The City is no stranger to bizarre meteorological, metaphysical, and otherwise logic-defying events. One day it can rain tar. Another day the air will smell a little sweet. Another day a dead pet will rise from its grave. Another day a street will distort, then go back to normal. Another day everyone born on May 11th will cough up ammonia.

Sky anomaly. In reality, a mirage above Jiangxi

There are at least a dozen anomalous events every year. It’s generally believed they occur because of precipitation, affected particles and/or artefacts travelling outside of the Zone, as well as City dwellers unknowingly ingesting anomalous particles into their bodies.

Few environmental anomalies outside the Zone are permanent or dangerous, but some do require containment. On paper, public access to any life-threatening anomaly needs to be cut off as soon as it becomes known. In practice, places deemed dangerous often get little more than a police ribbon and a couple of warning signs around them.

What are some restricted anomalous areas within the City?

The Lazurny (Azure) Pool

The most notable one in the context of PAFL itself is the pool KT inhabited during her two weeks on the run. Abandoned, but neither guarded nor fenced off, the building had all its entrances and windows welded shut and left at that.

Mosaic by the main pool

The reason for its closure was the main pool’s basin becoming what one could only call a bottomless pit. Its water cannot be drained or pumped out, and everything alive entering it disappears underneath, never to be seen again. Only pieces of plywood, garbage, sports and research equipment now float atop the surface.

The Anomalous Forest

As far as less relevant places are concerned, the workshop Ivan and Arthur work at overlooks a large restricted area just on the edge of town. It’s part of a bigger forest that fell victim to the local wind rose: a lot of clouds coming from the Zone have rained various suspicious liquids on it.

As a result, the treeline became ridiculously uneven, with some parts looking lush with greenery, some being inappropriately naked, some standing pale and sickly, and some even emanating a faint glow come nightfall. There is little official information about the dangers of local flora and fauna, but more than enough urban legends. Though, most seem to agree that eating anything from the pale zone results in awful diarrhoea.

Affected trees. In reality, the Drunken Forest in the Curonian Spit

A popular theory for why such areas are never cleared or properly restricted (aside from money pocketing) is that the facility uses them for resources.

For instance, a pine tree whose needles cause people to develop tumours can be a valuable asset for various research, medical or otherwise. Or take a small stretch of an impossibly warped landscape – that one can be a great place to test the physical attributes of anomalous objects. Would be a waste to make those things nearly impossible to access, no?

What about the artefact trade?

As was stated multiple times before, unregistered possession of anomalous artefacts is strictly against the law. The only exceptions are the anomalous souvenirs produced and sold in the Facility and shops around the city (small floating toys, balls of glowsmoke, standing needles).

Sorting of artefacts (batteries) in False Disposition

Actual artefacts are acquired and sold illegally by stalkers. They are usually traded to either gangs, police, or government officials who, in turn, resell them to faraway regions or abroad, where they go for an even higher price.

This is a large part of why crime continues to flourish in the City: the underground trade is simply too profitable for everyone involved, including those who are supposed to fight against it.

Where do the main characters live?

All of our main characters live on the edge of town, in an area that’s relatively close to the Facility located just outside of the City. The rough map of the main locations would look something like this:

Approximate map of the area. Apartment blocks sure look crazy from above

Yura and Sanya live about 15 minutes away from each other with Sanya’s house, in turn, being a 10-15 minute walk away from the Molodzyozhny club. Following the road South from Molodzyozhny will lead you to the orphanage, Ivan’s house, and his dad’s workshop overlooking the anomalous forest.

Following the same road North will have you pass by Nikita’s house and eventually lead to Olya’s – though, she lives relatively far, being around 35 minutes away from Sanya’s place by foot. Yana lives even farther, in the city centre way to the West.

Going to the East will lead you to a more forested area. That’s where the abandoned Lazurny pool is located. It’s also where buses and railroads travel through to get to the Facility located right on the border of the City and the Zone.

The estacade in False Disposition

The estacade where Sanya catches up with Yura in False Disposition and, subsequently, the meeting spot with Olya and Nikita are also located off the little map (sorry): they're to the East of the orphanage, next to the train tracks.

The road to both the Facility and the Zone has plenty of buildings on the way (industrial and otherwise), but getting to the border checkpoint by foot from, say, Yura’s house would take at least an hour and a half. It’s not somewhere you wander to by accident.

#loredump #parties are for losers #deepest lore #sergei #yura #sanya #olya #nikita #bg gang #katya

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aethes-bookshelf · 7 months

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let me be your shelter || astarion/gn!tav

This is the result of an especially hectic exam season. I started writing this fic instead of having a meltdown lol Now that I have more time again, I decided to finish it :) I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: hurt/comfort (mostly comfort), gn!Tav (can be read as a self-insert), Tav/Reader is the one being comforted

Pairing: Astarion/Tav, Astarion/Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Summary: You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. Even after everything you'd been through, you put on a brave face. All the way up until you couldn't.

Luckily, Astarion's always there to pick up the pieces.

ao3 link

The sun was setting outside when you finally closed the front door of your house behind you, cloaking the entrance corridor in darkness. The straps of your pack were digging quite painfully into your shoulder, no doubt leaving angry marks on your skin. You threw it to the floor with a huff and closed your eyes for a moment,

The day's exhaustion rolled off of you in waves; hours worth of dust and grime stuck to your clothes and skin. Rebuilding the city after the Battle of Baldur’s Gate was a noble cause. It being noble, however, didn’t make it any less exhausting.

You tried running your fingers through your hair, but your hand almost got stuck in it instead. The firm tug against your scalp made your eyes water. Your back was on fire, your legs were on fire, your face was tacky with drying sweat. It was all so much, too much.

Curling up in a corner and staying there until the sun fell out of the sky seemed worryingly appealing. I still have to go back out there tomorrow, though, you thought. The ugly, choking pressure in your throat got tighter and tighter. Your eyes, still clenched shut, brimmed with tears.

‘Darling?’ called a familiar voice from somewhere on the other side of the corridor. ‘Why are you just standing there? At least light a candle or something. It’s not like you can see like this,’ the voice continued, getting closer.

There was the hiss of a match being lit; one, two, three candles lit up the darkness.

‘Well, not that you can see much with your eyes closed, anyway,’ said Astarion. All snark left his voice when he saw the first tears roll down your cheeks. ‘Oh, I wasn’t that mean, was I? Why are you crying, love?’

‘I-I’m sorry.’ Your voice broke. ‘I don’t- don’t know why, I’m just- just so…’ you trailed off as the first sobs tore out of your chest.

Just a few months ago, Astarion would be looking like a deer in headlights right about now. He still remembered the very first time you broke down after the whole Absolute-tadpole nonsense was over. After everyone else went their separate ways and you chose to stay to help rebuild the city and he chose to stay with you. Naturally.

The breakdown happened soon after. The second night the two of you slept in your brand new bed in your brand new house, the dam inside you just broke, shattered into pieces; and you were swept up in the current of the build-up grief and fear.

Astarion, as much as he loathed to admit it, panicked. He had no idea how to comfort people; after all, it wasn’t a skill necessary for survival for most of his life, so he never really bothered to learn it. He still hadn’t even after whatever the two of you shared at first turned more serious. You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. The stable one. The stable one never gets to cry, so you didn’t.

As ashamed as Astarion was when he realized it, he hadn’t even thought you could cry. It just never really crossed his mind.

Luckily for the both of you, he loved you far too much not to learn from his mistakes after that very first night of the rest of your life. He’d like to think he got comforting you down to a science.

‘Would you like a hug, my sweet?’ Step one was almost always physical contact. And not just because holding you became one of his favorite pastimes; rather, it was grounding for you to have something to hold onto when you got like this. Astarion would gladly volunteer to be that something whenever he could.

You didn’t trust your voice enough to answer, so you just nodded instead. You were starting to tremble; rarely a good sign. Whatever stress-induced breakdown was happening would probably be a big one.

Astarion knew better than to try to wrestle you from the spot you were standing in. It would do nothing except agitate you further, so he simply walked up to you and gathered you into his arms.

The moment you were close enough to hide your face in the crook of his neck, the sobs that had been building up inside you this entire time wrecked your body. You were wailing loudly; so loudly you’d be embarrassed if you had enough energy left in you to care.

Astarion winced slightly at first — you were close enough to his ear for it to hurt. Still, he held you closer, firmer. Just enough pressure to help you calm down.

Eventually, your wailing died down to sobbing, and sobbing turned into soft sniffling. He tried to run a hand through your hair; his fingers nearly got stuck in it, just like yours before.

‘Would you say no to a bath, darling?’ he said, voice soft and quiet. ‘I got some new scented oils a few days ago. I even paid for them this time.’

That got a small chuckle out of you. Your throat was raw and your face was even more sticky now; a bath sounded wonderful.

‘I’d rather like a bath, I think.’ Your voice was all scratchy. You’d probably have one hell of a time trying to speak tomorrow.

‘Come on, then.’ Astarion kissed the top of your head and gently pried you away from his neck.

Usually you were the one leading him everywhere; he supposed in moments like these it was his turn to lead you instead. He walked you to the bathroom, holding your hand. And he didn’t even comment on the snot you left on his shirt, which was a great show of understanding on his part — as far as he was concerned — although he did take it off and throw it in the laundry basket as soon as the two of you entered the bathroom. All his love for you didn’t mean he’d be okay running about in a snotted-up shirt.

He sat you down on the floor near the bathtub and filled it with water. He smelled each of the new scented oils with great consideration. The last thing you probably wanted at the moment was having to pick which oil to put in your bath, so he wanted to make the choice for you — and to make the right one.

After the bath was all prepared, Astarion helped you out of your clothes and walked you to the corner of the bathroom, where he washed most of the dirt off your skin. Making sure you could properly relax also meant making sure you wouldn’t be soaking in dirty water, after all.

Soon enough, you were sitting in the bathtub with your eyes closed. Right after helping you inside the bath, Astarion ran off to grab your favorite hairbrush. And now, he busied himself with detangling the mess your hair had become over the course of your day. He talked and talked all the while — about his day, about this awful thief he managed to thwart the other night, about the shopping trip he went on the day before — about everything and nothing, just to keep talking. Just to fill the silence with noise that would drown out your screaming, tired mind. He didn’t expect you to answer; it was enough that you listened.

After your hair was brushed, washed and conditioned, Astarion dried you off and brought you a freshly washed set of pajamas.

‘You need to sleep, darling,’ he said, handing you the clothes. He knew you were far too tired to argue with him on that. As endearing as your usual desire to stay up with him for as long as possible was, you needed rest — badly.

‘Will you stay with me?’ you said. You felt much better now that all the grime was off of you, but the thought of laying in bed alone made you want to cry all over again.

‘As if I’d ever leave,’ scoffed Astarion as he took your hand again, leading you out of the bathroom.

The coldness of his bare chest was a much needed comfort. You nuzzled closer to him as he threw a thick blanket over the two of you. He reached over to his bedside table.

‘I could read for you, if you’d like.’

You mumbled out a ‘yes’. Your eyelids were so very heavy, but the idea of hearing Astarion’s voice rumble in his chest right against your cheek sounded lovely.

He chuckled to himself. ‘You’re adorable when you’re tired.’

He started reading. You weren’t really paying attention to what he was reading, rather to the sound of his voice itself. The individual words and sentences blurred into one, continuous rumble. Listening to him speak felt like falling deeper and deeper into a pile of the softest pillows.

You were out before Astarion could finish the first fifteen pages of the book. He noticed by the end of page twenty. When he did, he gently put away the book and held you tighter against him. And he may or may not have left a few kisses on your forehead, but that’s neither here nor there.

Astarion got comforting you down to a science. And he was damn proud that he was the one you trusted to comfort you in the first place.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #gn!reader #gn!tav #unnamed tav #fluff #domestic fluff #hurt/comfort #fluff and angst #bg3 #astarion #my writing #bg3 astarion #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #second person pov

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kesujo · 1 month

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Chapter 3 - Miss Adorable

Previous chapter here.

It wasn’t even the full week before Seojun had his first encounter with another succubus.

It was immediately obvious that she was a succubus, evident by the fact that he saw her arrive not at the front door of the residence but landing on the balcony of the bedroom he was replacing the bedsheets for. What was especially startling was that it seemed like a mini-Taeyeon had landed on the balcony, her big eyes peering at him in curiosity, her wings folding back and disappearing back inside her body.

“Hello,” Seojun greeted the demoness as she stepped through the sliding glass door. Here stood another strikingly beautiful female, although her beauty laid mostly in her soft, friendly features; Seojun knew he was fortunate to have been offered the deal Taeyeon gave him, and this was just confirmation of the fact. Immediately, his mind jumped to what her naked body would look like, his eyes flickering to the soft curves of her chest and down to her hips, flickering back up at the realization that doing so was rude.

Fortunately, the mini-Taeyeon didn’t seem to mind, in fact giving him a luminescent smile. ��Hello! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Yeoreum, you must be Taeyeon’s newest servant.” Her cutesy, bright voice stood in contrast to Taeyeon’s stable, confident voice. From his preconceived notions of what a succubus would be like, and because Taeyeon fit them so well, Seojun had just figured that all succubae were like her: calm, collected, oozing with an aura of sexiness, and carrying about her enough confidence to make a rabid wolf whimper. However, in just her greeting, Seojun could tell that his assessment was wrong, thankfully not disastrously so since Yeoreum seemed just too friendly. Which, in retrospect, was a ridiculous thing to just now realize, because of course succubae would have different personalities, just as humans did.

“In a few days, yes. It’s nice to meet you Yeoreum, my name is Seojun.”

Yeoreum laughed, waving her hand dismissively at his overly polite mannerisms. “There’s no need to be so formal! Is Big Sis Taeyeon home right now?”

“Yeah, I think—”

“Oh Yeoreum, you’re here?” Seojun turned at the sound of Taeyeon’s steady voice, seeing Taeyeon at the entrance of the bedroom. “I see you’ve already met Seojun.”

She nodded animatedly, strolling up to the man and slinging an arm around his shoulders. Seojun jumped slightly at the contact, trying his best to not let the pleasant feeling of her smooth skin or the pleasant smell of her hair brushing against his cheek. “Yep! We’re best friends already. Right, Seojun?”

“A-Are we?” he asked back, his laugh laced with traces of nervousness.

Yeoreum’s soft, red lips pulled into an adorable pout. “Whaat? What do you mean ‘are we?’”

Taeyeon laughed, clearly amused at the younger succubus’s antics. “He only learned about succubae a few days ago, give him a break.”

“…And you’re making him your servant already?”

“Yeah,” Taeyeon replied. Yeoreum turned her head to take a good look at the man whose shoulders her arm was slung around, Seojun looking back with an awkward smile on his face. Taeyeon, on the other hand, had a contemplative look on her face. “You know what, I think I’ll treat you. When did you last feed?”

The younger succubus shrugged, retracting her arms. “Two weeks ago, probably?”

The mention of the topic flared up Seojun’s imagination, images of this happy-go-lucky, adorable specimen of a female naked, of her perky tits and pink nipples shaking vigorously as she bounced on his cock, her face contorted in pleasure, her tongue lolling out, moans coming out of her parted lips in an uncontrollable stream of ecstasy flashing into his mind.

“Oh, I’m sure Seojun will give you more than your fill. But first, what did you come here for?”

The younger demoness pouted again, jumping forward and grabbing the arm of the bemused Taeyeon. “Can’t I visit my Big Sis when I miss her?”

Taeyeon laughed, her eyes sparkling with a joy Seojun had never seen before. He could understand why; Yeoreum was so adorable in every way, from her mannerisms to her voice to even her choice of clothing, Seojun couldn’t help but smile. To think just last week, he was some random nobody who spent his twenty-something years without having a girlfriend; now, he was in the same room with two top-class beauties who seemed to actually want him there. The very idea seemed to jump straight out of some poorly written porno, but here he was, in the presence of two dazzlingly attractive young-appearing women he would’ve never even dared to dream of having any kind of relationship with.

“Aww, you missed your Big Sis?” Taeyeon cooed, her mellowing facial features showing that she finally gave in to the barrage of cuteness Yeoreum was assaulting her with, wrapping her arms around the smaller succubus. “How have you been? Still getting used to everything? Did you discover your Trait yet?”

“Oh!” Yeoreum’s eyes lit up with excitement, an adorable, toothy smile aimed at Seojun’s mistress-to-be. “I didn’t tell you yet because I wanted to show you, but it finally manifested! I’ve been practicing these last few years and was hoping to show you.”

Taeyeon laughed, unable to help herself from patting the head of the animated female. “Is that so? Well, luckily for you, I have just the opportunity for you.” The two sets of eyes moved to Seojun, who in turn felt a spike of anxiety and anticipation. “You probably can’t tell, right? That he’s a delicacy?”

Yeoreum’s nose crinkled as she tested her nose but to no avail. She shook her head, another pout forming on her lips. “I can’t…”

The smile on Taeyeon’s face stayed as she replied, “It’s fine, you’ll get there. Take some time to acquaint yourself with Seojun’s kind of scent, you’ll regret letting such delicacies slip between your fingers. But I doubt you’ll ever find anyone as great as Seojun.” Hearing Taeyeon so proudly boast about him created a swelling sense of pride inside the albeit embarrassed man—but at the same time, hearing the praise be for something that he, for all he knew, had absolutely no control over gave him mixed feelings. He once harbored jealousy towards those actors and idols with great genetics that granted them handsome faces and great bodies, but now Seojun felt like a hypocrite. Through little effort of his own—in fact, less so than those celebrities, as they had to work hard to maintain their great bodies despite having good genes—he gained the benefits of attracting Taeyeon simply for … what, happening create the type of semen that massively appealed to succubae?

But above all, hearing the boastful way Taeyeon talked about him to Yeoreum gave him a confidence he, the loner guy that he was, never felt before. It felt almost dangerous, the amount of confidence that was ballooning in his chest, and Seojun reveled in it. Screw all those complicated thoughts about ‘not deserving this’; he worked plenty hard up until this point in his life. And really, who was he to complain about the great sex he’s been having with Taeyeon the past few days, and now with Yeoreum? Just the thought of her long eyelashes fluttered shut, her plump lips parted slightly, her round tits jiggling at the fierce motion of her fucking herself with his cock made it twitch in anticipation.

“When was the last time you had an orgasm?”

Yeoreum contemplated that, an action too cute considering the question being posed. “I don’t know, maybe a decade or two ago?”

“And you know how infrequently I orgasm, right?” Yeoreum nodded, unsure where the conversation was going. “Well, the first time we fucked, Seojun brought me to orgasm.” Yeoreum’s eyes widened, her eyes landing on Seojun. He shuddered, again feeling the predatory look directed at him, but this time from eyes not from Taeyeon, but Yeoreum. Hearing those words, something about Yeoreum changed; whereas before her facial expression carried primarily an innocent excitement, now hidden within were hints of arousal and desire.

“Do you want a taste?”

Yeoreum, with her face turned towards Seojun, nodded with such a brilliant display of excitement that Seojun felt nearly blinded by it. “Yeah! May I?”

Seojun suddenly froze up. Wait. Right now? Right here? In front of Taeyeon?

He had gotten used to Taeyeon, although he would be lying if he said that having sex with her still didn’t make him feel anxious about his performance. But at least with Taeyeon, he had the confidence Taeyeon instilled in him over the few sessions they’ve had. It was mere minutes ago that Seojun met Yeoreum. Could he please her? What if he didn’t and embarrassed Taeyeon? What if he did so badly that not only Yeoreum regarded him with disgust, but so did Taeyeon? What if she ended up abandoning him? He couldn’t have that. This was the best thing that’s ever happened in his life—he wasn’t about to let himself lose it.

“Mmhm. And don’t by embarrassed or anxious, Seojun. Just pretend Yeoreum is me.”

Taeyeon’s comforting words helped appease his anxiety a little, but what truly did the trick was the adorable way Yeoreum skipped up to him and guided him onto the bed, saying with an addictively excited tone, “It’ll be more comfortable on the bed, come on!”

A smile sprouted on Seojun’s face: Yeoreum was giving off very strong dongsaeng, young-and-energetic-junior-at-work-who-was-assigned-to-shadow-you kind of vibes, so much so that Seojun was startled when she entrapped his legs between her slim, milky-soft thighs. Her butt was planted on his legs, a few inches in front of his knees, her arms at the hem of his shirt, already moving to pull it off. “Wha—?” But Seojun caught himself, unfortunately not before Yeoreum caught on to what he was saying.

“What do you mean?” she said, giggling in a criminally adorable manner, “Of course we have to be naked for sex!”

Hearing the word from such a cutesy voice was jarring, but that sharp juxtaposition somehow made it all the sexier. “Right.”

Hearing the stiffness in his voice, Yeoreum’s smile shifted into a gentle one. She patted his shoulder gently after removing his shirt. “Aw, don’t be shy~” she insisted, caressing his significantly more built arm—something Seojun had spent next to zero effort in the past few days to obtain. “Let’s do it comfortably, OK? Unlike Big Sis Taeyeon, I like more normal things.”

Taeyeon scoffed, eliciting another giggle from Yeoreum. “Well, excuse me.”

“Sorry Taeyeon, love you!” Yeoreum exclaimed, making a big heart with her arms directed at the smiling older female.

“I’m just going to go into my office and brood about how weird I am.” It was Taeyeon’s turn to pout, Yeoreum’s smile growing only wider in reaction.

“Noo, staay~” she insisted, reaching out to her while remaining on Seojun’s lap. “You’re not weird~”

“You want me to stay and watch you have sex with someone? Are you sure being an exhibitionist doesn’t qualify you as being weird?”

The younger succubus burst into a twinkling laughter, her eyes disappearing into black crescent moons. Everything about the laughter, from the pleasant sound of it to the way her face brightened, transferred over to Seojun like a contagious virus. “Don’t say that! You’ll give Seojun weird ideas!”

“It’s OK Yeoreum, I don’t think you’re weird even if you are into exhibitionism.”

“I’m not!” she whined, “See Taeyeon? You’re already giving him weird ideas!”

“Well, he said that he liked that, didn’t he?”

Both of their gazes fell onto him suddenly, causing Seojun to stammer from the sudden attention from both sets of beautiful eyes. “U-Uh, did I? No, I didn’t, but I don’t mind.”

Hearing that, Yeoreum perked up. “OK, so are you ready?”

Seojun didn’t even realize until then, but that brief exchange greatly eased his nerves. Was it an intentional ploy from Yeoreum, or did it happen by chance? Seeing the excited gleam in her cat-like eyes and the confident, playful smile on her cherry-red lips made the prospect of fucking the second insanely attractive female of the week seem suddenly less daunting, and it was then that Seojun decided that Yeoreum’s bubbly, friendly, cute personality just naturally put the people around her at ease. “Are you?”

Seojun tried for a bit of confidence, and hearing Yeoreum’s sly reply, he was thankful it paid off. “Come here and find out.”

Seojun acquiesced, reaching forward and pulling the frame-hugging, midriff-exposing top she was wearing off, leaving her in a white bra that, unfortunately, did a fantastic job covering her womanly bits. “Damn, your body feels so nice,” Seojun commented, his hands gliding over her silky-smooth skin, reaching around her arms and unclasping the bra that was holding her mounds upright. As he let the piece of undergarment down, so too did Yeoreum’s breasts, the pink nipples sitting atop each mound candidly pointing at the mattress they were seated on. “And your boobs are bigger than they look.” Seojun’s hands traveled to her supple boobs, feeling the marshmallow-y texture of the twin mounds in his palms and fingers.

Enamored with the softness of her breasts, Seojun’s hands stayed on them, eyes locked onto Yeoreum’s malleable mounds under the assault of his hands. Seojun could feel a rush in equal parts of serotonin and arousal, Yeoreum’s soft sighs and mewls of approval only aiding in it. “Your hands … you’re so rough … but it feels so good…” Her eyes were lightly closed, her lips pressed together, her fists clenched at her sides, her chest moving with the rhythm of her deepening breaths.

“Hmm, I can at least tell that your tits are ready,” he said, capturing both erect nubs between his fingers and gently squeezing them. Yeoreum let out a cute yelp, her back arching into his hands. Everything about her was soft, from her skin to her voice even to the way she reacted to his hands, yet another stark contrast to Taeyeon. With Taeyeon, even if she played the role as the submissive, Seojun always knew in the back of his mind that Taeyeon was the one in charge; with Yeoreum, it was different. Her entire body submitted to him easily, as if it was only natural.

“Seojun…” her whine still kept her cutesy tone, something that surprisingly turned Seojun on even more. There was just something about the adorable demoness maintaining her cuteness while her sexy body squirmed under his touch that was immensely appealing to him.

“Look at these cute little pink buttons, just waiting to be pressed,” Seojun continued, his fingers playing with the peaks of both mountains. It was addicting, not just feeling Yeoreum’s boobs inside his hands but also listening to her soft sounds of satisfaction.

“Stop teasing mee…” she pouted, her eyes opening and capturing Seojun’s gaze. His eyes flickered towards her big, dark-brown orbs, immediately enraptured in the longing expression on her face. Maybe it was the contrast between the adorable pout on her face and the sexy body of the woman sitting on his legs, or maybe it was the adorableness of the pout itself, but Seojun found himself obliging to Yeoreum’s silent request.

“Do you want it?”

Seojun’s domineering side came out naturally, or perhaps it was Yeoreum herself who drew it out. Despite most definitely being older than him, her youthful appearance instilled inside Seojun a feeling of superiority, the natural aegyo in her every action only promoting his desire to be in control. Thankfully, Yeoreum was more than happy to oblige.

“Yes!”

She reached forward to the hem of Seojun’s pants, but he stopped her before she could do much else. “Nuh uh,” he teased her, “Did I say you could do that?”

Yeoreum retracted her hands, a guilty look befalling her face. “I’m sorry…”

Seojun couldn’t help but break character for a bit, a smile stretching the corner of his lips apart. “Let’s do yours first.”

Before he could even move, Yeoreum’s tail whipped out from behind her and tore the cloth cleanly off her legs, casually tossing the bisected clothing to the side of the bed. And there was another sign of Seojun’s enhancements; although he couldn’t react to Yeoreum’s speed, his eyes could follow her movements whereas before they couldn’t. “Oh, or you can just do that.”

Yeoreum giggled, scooching closer to Seojun. “Sorry, I’m just a little impatient. You can feel how wet I am, right?”

Seojun nodded, biting his lip in an attempt to contain the moan at the feeling of her wet folds rubbing her secreted sticky fluids onto his upper thighs. Although this was the first time feeling a woman’s wet folds rubbing against his leg, Seojun couldn’t help but feel like it felt better than it should’ve felt. Was it just him? Was it something to do with Yeoreum? “Just from Taeyeon’s description?”

It was Yeoreum’s turn to nod this time, the cute, opened-mouth smile never leaving her face. “What can I say? I’m an excitable person.”

“All this excitement,” Seojun retook control of the situation, his arm wrapping around her slim waist and his hand cupping her shapely ass, his index and middle finger reaching down and sliding along the slippery tissue of her entrance. Yeoreum yelped again, her cat-like eyes trained on him as another wave of pleasure washed over her small, sexy frame. “Just for me?”

She nodded, not losing an ounce of the adorable excitement she carried with her since the first moment of their encounter. “For you! Are you going to take responsibility for making me this excited?”

Again, Seojun was hit with another reality check: with Taeyeon, she always seemed so different while having sex than when carrying herself elsewhere. It wasn’t precisely that she lost her sex appeal when they weren’t fucking, it was just that Taeyeon tapped into that side of her more during sex. What this did to Seojun was establish a notion that a person completely changed during sex, to the point that he found himself copying Taeyeon in adapting the same type of personality change while doing the deed. However, Yeoreum lost none of her cuteness, but somehow added onto it a layer of sexiness that caused his arousal to flare higher and higher. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

Yeoreum giggled again, the beautiful noise resonating inside Seojun’s mind like an addicting song. “Well, are you going to just touch my pussy with your fingers, or are you going to impale it with that throbbing cock you have still hidden inside your pants?”

What was especially startling about the inquiry was the way Yeoreum’s playful, cute tone didn’t disappear in the slightest, even while saying such filthy words. “Why don’t you remove my pants and find out just how much my cock is throbbing and how ready it is to violate your tiny pussy?”

In a slight break of her cutesy character, Yeoreum bit the corner of her strikingly red lower lip in anticipation, her dark tail whipping out from behind her and stripping Seojun of both his shorts and boxers in one stroke, the two pieces of clothing tossed to the side. Yeoreum finally broke eye contact with him, her eyes drawn to the swollen tip of Seojun’s dick already oozing with a sliver of precum. “Oh, can’t waste this,” she chirped, her right hand reaching down and collecting the viscous bodily fluid between her thumb and index finger, swiftly bringing it to her lips.

Her eyes went wide as her tongue greedily lapped up the appetizer.

“Now you can tell why I was so quick to make him my servant, right?”

“Yeah … oh my…”

Hearing Taeyeon’s voice suddenly reminded Seojun that she was still in the room, but the casual way she and Yeoreum addressed each other calmed the embarrassment that he started to feel.

Yeoreum’s eyes snapped back to Seojun’s, that hungry predatory look reappearing in her gaze. “And you have more of that?”

Seojun, in part thanks to Yeoreum’s excessive friendliness, was already feeling comfortable enough to repeat her words from minutes before, “Why don’t you come and find out?”

Yeoreum giggled again, in such a cute and playful way that one might’ve never guessed she was naked, sitting inches away from a man’s fully erect penis. “I would be glad to. Don’t mind if I do~”

Seojun’s hands went to cup the soft skin of her butt in his hands, spreading her cheeks apart as she closed in and lowered herself onto his manhood. Her lips parted, a deep breath entering her lungs as his dick slipped between her soaking wet pussy lips and into her hot core.

Immediately, Seojun could feel it: the hotness of Yeoreum’s vaginal walls squeezing his dick, his entire body shuddering at the feeling of the sensitive sex organ pushing through the impossibly tight canal his cock was submerged inside, and the copious amounts of Yeoreum’s honey being slathered along the length of his shaft. After feeling his cock fully submerged inside the mewling succubus, Seojun could already start feeling his breath shortening. “Fuck,” he groaned, half in lust and half in confusion as to why he was already brought to this state.

“Do you like it? Do you like my pussy?”

This time, her whisper was much more sensual. Her slim arms were wrapped around his nape, her gaze gaining a fervor, rotating her hips against his groin with purpose. A smirk had now overtaken her features, but there was still a playful edge to it. “Yeah, fuck, you feel so good.”

It wasn’t long before Seojun could feel something strange. Not the sinking-feeling-in-his-stomach kind of strange, but a confused kind of strange. As both Yeoreum and Seojun’s intensity increased and his vision from before came into fruition, he found that the ecstatic pleasure he was feeling was seemingly increasing without bounds. It wasn’t even that he was reaching his orgasm faster, it was just that with every connecting stroke, the pleasure from the action increased. Seojun could feel his body tense and shudder more and more with every bounce until Seojun could barely even focus on the ordinarily incredibly distracting pair of bouncing tits in front of him. “Fuck, what…?”

“What do you think?” Although there was a clear strain in her voice, the cute edge returned to her voice.

“Wh-Wha…?”

“You can feel it, right?” Her playful, teasing voice paired with the cute smile on her face drew a chuckle out from Seojun.

“Wha—ah, shit!” Seojun jumped when he felt her foot press against the part of his leg that had been smeared with the first traces of the younger succubus’s arousal.

“How about that?”

“What—what is that?”

“That’s my Trait. I can make anything my bodily fluid touches feel more pleasure. Like this.” With that being her only warning, she reached down and took his hands, peppering his palms and fingers with kisses. When she was done, her gaze landed back onto his, the smile returning to her face. “I noticed you staring at my boobs: try feeling them now.”

Seojun obliged, cupping her ample bust inside his hands. And, sure enough, the surge of euphoria he felt at the touch nearly pushed a moan out of his mouth. “Oh, shit,” he instead murmured, the second wave of ecstatic pleasure joining the one that already existed from feeling Yeoreum’s hot core around his cock.

“Does it feel good?”

“Fuck, yes, I never thought feeling boobs could feel this fucking good.”

It was like that initial feeling of entering Yeoreum, that initial spark of pleasure, fantasy and desire being transformed into reality, only that feeling never faded. The feeling was kept at a sustained high, even growing and building with each resonating slap of her ass onto his groin, each synchronized thrust inside her building that feeling of pleasure. The pleasure shooting through his body grew and grew, as did the impending orgasm that was building inside him. Her mouth widened to a smile, the playful glint in her eyes never leaving despite a cloud of lust starting to overtake them. Their movements sped back up, the room soon filled with the wet sounds of Yeoreum’s butt against Seojun’s crotch and a musky scent of sex.

“Seojun…” Yeoreum’s whine carried about with it a musical quality to it, as if she was singing. Her slim legs were wrapped firmly around his waist, her jiggling boobs being held in place and kneaded by Seojun’s hands, her core repeatedly penetrated by his hardened member. With each stroke, Seojun could feel his dick became more drenched, and with every layer of bodily fluid coating its surface area, the pleasure increased. “Oh, you’re so rough!”

“This is another benefit of having a servant: his stamina and strength, especially during sex, is much greater than that of normal males.”

“Then, I-I need to learn to make one myself soon…” Yeoreum panted, her eyes closed and her lips parted.

“Mmm fuck, here comes,” Seojun’s warning came only a fraction of a second before the tension inside his body released all at once, a thick stream of the viscous sustenance flowing directly into the smaller succubus’s body.

“Oh … Oh!” Yeoreum’s body shuddered violently against Seojun’s, the high-quality semen shocking every nerve in her body and then some. “Oh-Oh my god!” Yeoreum yelped, the absorption of Seojun’s load shocking her lewd body into orgasm.

Although he was already half-way done with his orgasm, the sudden crash of more invigorating juice assaulting his shaft pumped his body with more adrenaline. The pair moaned incoherently, Yeoreum enjoying the delectable meal while Seojun felt his orgasm intensify midway through, his hips desperately pumping into the fleshy chamber, convulsing and squeezing his dick like it was attempting to draw out every last drop of semen from his balls. It was only after Yeoreum’s orgasm subsided that Seojun finally felt the euphoric high dwindle down.

The cute, younger succubus took a second to catch her breath before dismounting Seojun.

“Not bad, right?”

She nodded, evidently not done yet as she kneeled at the edge of the mattress whose bedsheets Seojun had just cleaned. “I want more,” she said, pulling her hair back with one hand while the other casually rested on his leg, her big eyes staring up at him, her mouth opened into the adorable toothy grin she sported. “Oh! I almost forgot!” Yeoreum turned around, facing Taeyeon nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just orgasmed in front of the older female. “What did you think? Of my Trait?”

“It’s really interesting. You can do some really interesting things with it, I can imagine. But I think it’s best used in combination with multiple people; maybe I can introduce you to Jessica, a friend of mine.”

“Hm…” she nodded thoughtfully, a second later offering, “Then, why don’t you join us?”

“I need to wait a bit longer with Seojun, but I can still help.”

Although Seojun was confused, Yeoreum squealed in delight and turned back around, her hands landing inches away from his damp crotch. “What…?”

“Just sit back and let me do all the work, OK?” Yeoreum gave Seojun one last dazzlingly bright smile before lowering her head. Taeyeon’s hand came up from behind, keeping her hair out of the way as Yeoreum’s tight, warm lips embraced the perimeter of his dick, her hands gently caressing the base of his shaft and his balls. Seojun’s body yet again filled with a crackling sensation of pure ecstasy, his groans drowned out by the loud slurping noise made from Yeoreum’s blowjob.

Even to Seojun, a man who received his first blowjob just days ago, he could tell the chasm of difference between Taeyeon and Yoereum: every single motion Taeyeon made, every lick, the angling of her head, the unobstructed ease at which she blew him, even her facial expressions were precise and meaningful. Yeoreum, while no amateur, was noticeably wetter and sloppier; however, Seojun wondered if it was meaningful as he could feel the saliva coating his shaft turning the blowjob into a more and more pleasurable experience.

The added factor of Taeyeon sitting to the side, keeping her hair out of the way and guiding Yeoreum as she bobbed up and down, each up-and-down motion infusing Seojun with more arousal. However, he didn’t even have time to adjust to it, feeling Taeyeon gently place a hand on his leg, shortly afterwards feeling a second wet tightness clamp around his member. Yeoreum let out a surprised moan, the reverberations coursing out from Yeoreum’s mouth and directly into Seojun through his reproductive organ. The two jumped almost in unison as Taeyeon’s tail, transmogrified into Seojun’s dick, plunged deep into Yeoreum’s greedy pussy.

“Fuck,” Seojun groaned, his fists tightening and his muscles clenching, Yeoreum’s lower half moving in accommodation to the sudden, but welcome, intrusion.

“Mm, that’s a good girl,” Taeyeon cooed while Yeoreum’s blowjob grew increasingly wilder, “Take in both of those dicks like a proper succubus. Think about how it’ll feel to get double the load, with Seojun’s dick both in your mouth and in your pussy.”

The thought spurred the younger immortal on even more, the fleshy, wet cavern tightening at the tantalizing prospect, her mouth swallowing the final few centimeters of Seojun’s penis. Seojun let out another string of swears, feeling Yeoreum’s soft lips briefly touch the base of his cock before coming up most of the way, shortly after plunging all the way back down. The combination of feeling his cock hit both the back of Yeoreum’s throat and brushing against the cervix at the end of her tight pussy was enough to bring Seojun quickly to the brink.

“You like that, huh? You like feeling my Seojun’s cock penetrate two of your holes at once? Does thinking about swallowing his load with both pairs of lips make you want to cum as well?” Yeoreum managed a nod, her actions growing more savage at the sultry goading of Taeyeon.

From Seojun’s vantage point, the sight was certainly one to behold. Her already small face was made smaller by the fact that it was a good few feet below from him, her dainty hands caressing his balls and upper thighs, her cat-like eyes focused intensely at the perfection of her craft. However, it was hard to appreciate the sight with how overwhelming both the impending orgasm and the immense pleasure flooding his every sense and thought, Seojun eventually conceding access to the sight to better focus on the sensations of ecstasy and pleasure he was feeling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” A breathy moan puffed out of his lips, the tightening sensation peaking just over the edge of his willpower. He desperately held it back, wanting to revel in the blissful feeling of the combined fucking of Yeoreum’s face and her vagina, but it was a sudden, sharp, drawn-out moan from Yeoreum that did the trick for him.

His groan turned into a grunt, another wave of semen erupting from his dick like water from a broken dam, flooding into both of Yeoreum’s awaiting warm caverns, her throat flexing impressively as it took the thick, salty substance in stride while her other entrance was yet again flooded with the white fluid. Yeoreum’s own body, tingling to the max with a euphoric high, became overwhelmed with the sudden influx of the addictive substance inside her body, a second orgasm wracking her small frame as it shook and vibrated with the cadence of the cataclysmic release. Her orgasm lasted long after Seojun’s subsided, at which Yeoreum removed her mouth from his cock still reeling from the feeling of her juices washing over its length.

“God, oh god, I haven’t had anything this warm and thick in so long…” Yeoreum panted, her head hanging inches from Seojun’s penis, her chest heaving and her hands resting on his upper thighs, her legs spread and her cheeks spread, her body still shaking from the orgasm Taeyeon had promised her.

Taeyeon just smiled triumphantly at the mewling female before her. “See? Now you understand why I made him my servant, right?”

It took Yeoreum a few more moments to calm down, and when she did, Taeyeon retracted her tail, reverting it to its original form before disappearing back inside her body. In conjunction, the warmth of Yeoreum’s firm vaginal walls disappeared, his penis finally allowed to start softening. “Yeah…” she wistfully conceded, sitting on her hind legs and looking back into Seojun’s eyes. Although he had just orgasmed twice, his eyes couldn’t help but fall back onto her ample breasts, casually hanging at her chest, the pink buttons on each mound noticeably less firm but still maintaining their cute, pointed shape. “You need to teach me how to make my own servant so I can go find one of my own.”

“I told you, it’s not really teachable,” Taeyeon reminded her, reaching for her hand and gently patting the back of it, “it’s something you learn the more experience you gain controlling your life force.”

“Wait, life force?”

Taeyeon nodded. “It’s what we call it,” Taeyeon told Seojun nonchalantly, “Demons, I mean.”

Seojun was reminded again about the concept of ‘demons’, plural, implicating the existence of other supernatural beings. But after encountering two succubae, Seojun found the idea surprisingly palatable. “I see,” was the mortal man’s reply, satisfied with Taeyeon’s simplistic response for now.

Yeoreum sprang up onto her feet, again showing off her white teeth to Seojun in her adorable, toothy grin. “Thanks, Seojun! I haven’t had a good orgasm like that in multiple, multiple decades.”

“Oh; um, no problem!”

Yeoreum giggled at Seojun’s failed attempts to mask his sudden embarrassment, using her tail to pick her shirt off the ground. When she put that on, she proceeded to scan the room only to find her messily bisected shorts. She picked it up, sheepishly smiling at Taeyeon. “Big Sis Taeyeon, do you mind if I borrow one of your clothes?”

Taeyeon laughed, agreeing to her request. Yeoreum stayed for a bit longer, enjoying dinner alongside Seojun. When he asked about it, Yeoreum revealed that she liked eating even though her body didn’t need it because her illness in her mortal life rendered hospitalized and stuck eating bad hospital food for most of her life, so when Taeyeon came and healed her by turning her into a succubus, she took advantage of her healthy body to eat as much delicious food as she could find. Seojun found this incredibly endearing and was actually a bit sad to see her go that night, but the feeling only lasted so long when Taeyeon grabbed his hand, gaining his attention.

“It’s time for tonight’s part of the ritual.”

That night, Seojun was once again reminded of how much he loved his life.

In case you were curious, Yeoreum was the first request; if you want female idol of your choosing to make an appearance on in this story, please go to my crowdfund page!

Next chapter here.

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